THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GREEN  FANCY 


BY  GEORGE  BARR  McCUTCHEON 

GRAUSTARK 

CASTLE  CRANEYCROW 

BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS 

THE  SHERRODS 

THE  DAY  OF  THE  DOG 

BEVERLY  OP  GRAUSTARK 

THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

NEDRA 

COWARDICE  COURT 

JANE  CABLE 

THE  FLYERS 

THE  DAUGHTER  OF  ANDERSON  CROW 

THE  HUSBANDS  OF  EDITH 

THE  MAN  FROM  BRODNEY'S 

THE  ALTERNATIVE 

TRUXTON  KING 

THE  BUTTERFLY  MAN 

THE  ROSE  IN  THE  RING 

WHAT'  s-  HIS-NAME 

MARY  MIDTHORNE 

HER  WEIGHT  IN  GOLD 

THE  HOLLOW  OF  HER  HANDS 

A  FOOL  AND  His  MONEY 

BLACK  Is  WHITE 

THE  PRINCE  OF  GRAUSTARK 

MR.  BINGLB 

THE  LIGHT  THAT  LIES 

FEOM  THE  HOUSETOPS 

GBEEN  FANCY 


THE    RED    GLEAM    FROM 
THE  BLAZING  LOGS 
FELL  UPON  HER 
SHINING  HAIR;  IT 
GLISTENED  LIKE 
GOLD.      SHE  WORE  A 
SIMPLE  EVENING 
GOWN  OF  WHITE 
(PAGE  139) 


GREEN   FANCY 


BY 

GEORGE  BARR  McCUTCHEON 

AUTHOR  OF  "GRAUSTARK,"  "THE  HOLLOW  OF  HEB  HAND," 
"THE  PRINCE  OP  GRAUSTARK,"  ETC. 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 
C.   ALLAN   GILBERT 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1917 


COPYRIGHT,  1917 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY.  INC. 


PS 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTKB  PAGE 

I.    THE  FIRST  WAYFARER  AND  THE  SECOND  WAYFARER 

MEET  AND  PART  ON  THE  HIGHWAY 1 

II.    THE  FIRST  WAYFARER  LAYS  His  PACK  ASIDE  AND 

FALLS  IN  WITH  FRIENDS 15 

HI.    MR.    RTJSHCROFT    DISSOLVES,    MR.    JONES    INTER 
VENES,  AND  Two  MEN  RIDE  AWAY 33 

IV.    AN   EXTRAORDINARY    CHAMBERMAID,    A   MIDNIGHT 

TRAGEDY,  AND  A  MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  You"  .      50 
V.    THE  FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY,  AND  AN 

IRISHMAN  ENTERS 67 

VI.    CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME,  AND  A  STROLL  IN 

THE  WlLDWOOD  FOLLOWS 85 

VII.    SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,   BLUE  EYES,  AND  VARIOUS  EN 
COUNTERS     103 

VHI.    A  NOTE,  SOME  FANCIES,  AND  AN  EXPEDITION  IN 

QUEST  OF  FACTS 120 

DL    THE  FIRST  WAYFARER,  THE  SECOND  WAYFARER,  AND 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT     .     ...     134 
X.    THE  PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY,  AND  THE  LAMENT  OF 

PETER  THE  CHAUFFEUR 148 

XI.    MR.  SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE  AT  AN  EARLY 

HOUR  IN  THE  MORNING 167 

XII.    THE  FIRST  WAYFARER  ACCEPTS  AN  INVITATION,  AND 

MR.  DlLLINGFORD  BELABORS  A  PROXY     ....       183 

XIII.  THE  SECOND  WAYFARER  RECEIVES  Two  VISITORS  AT 

MIDNIGHT 199 

XIV.  A  FLIGHT,  A  STONE-CUTTER'S  SHED,  AND  A  VOICE 

OUTSIDE  .  221 


1522541 


CONTENTS  vi 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV.    LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY, — Bur  MB.  SPBOUSE 

WAS  SMALLER  THAN  THE  AVERAGE 240 

XVI.    THE  FIRST  WAYFARER  VISITS  A  SHRINE,  CONFESSES, 

AND  TAKES  AN  OATH 266 

XVTI.    THE  SECOND  WAYFARER  Is  TRANSFORMED,  AND  MAR 
RIAGE  Is  FLOUTED 273 

XVIII.    MR.  SPROUSE  CONTINUES  TO  BE  PERPLEXING,  BUT 

Purs  His  NOSE  TO  THE  GROUND 291 

XIX.    A  TRIP  BY  NIGHT,  A  SUPPER,  AND  A  LATE  ARRIVAL    306 
XX.    THE  FIRST  WAYFARER  HAS  ONE  TREASURE  THRUST 

UPON  HIM, — AND  FORTHWITH  CLAIMS  ANOTHER  .     321 
XXI.    THE  END  IN  SIGHT  340 


GREEN  FANCY 


GREEN  FANCY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    FIRST    WAYFARER    AND    THE    SECOND    WAYFARER 
MEET    AND    PART    ON    THE    HIGHWAY 

A  SOLITARY  figure  trudged  along  the  nar 
row  road  that  wound  its  serpentinous  way 
through  the  dismal,  forbidding  depths  of 
the  forest:  a  man  who,  though  weary  and  footsore, 
lagged  not  in  his  swift,  resolute  advance.  Night 
was  coming  on,  and  with  it  the  no  uncertain  pros 
pects  of  storm.  Through  the  foliage  that  overhung 
the  wretched  road,  his  ever-lifting  and  apprehen 
sive  eye  caught  sight  of  the  thunder-black,  low- 
lying  clouds  that  swept  over  the  mountain  and  bore 
down  upon  the  green,  whistling  tops  of  the  trees. 

At  a  cross-road  below  he  had  encountered  a  small 
girl  driving  homeward  the  cows.  She  was  afraid 
of  the  big,  strange  man  with  the  bundle  on  his  back 
and  the  stout  walking  stick  in  his  hand:  to  her  a 
remarkable  creature  who  wore  "knee  pants"  and 
stockings  like  a  boy  on  Sunday,  and  hob-nail  shoes, 
and  a  funny  coat  with  "pleats"  and  a  belt,  and  a 
green  hat  with  a  feather  sticking  up  from  the  band. 

1 


2  GREEN  FANCY 

His  agreeable  voice  and  his  amiable  smile  had  no 
charm  for  her.  He  merely  wanted  to  know  how  far 
it  was  to  the  nearest  village,  but  she  stared  in  alarm 
and  edged  away  as  if  preparing  to  break  into  mad 
flight  the  instant  she  was  safely  past  him  with  a 
clear  way  ahead. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said  gently.  "And  here ! 
Catch  it  if  you  can."  He  tossed  a  coin  across  the 
road.  It  struck  at  her  feet  and  rolled  into  the  high 
grass.  She  did  not  divert  her  gaze  for  the  fraction 
of  a  second.  "I'm  a  stranger  up  here  and  I  want 
to  find  some  place  to  sleep  for  the  night.  Surely 
you  have  a  tongue,  haven't  you?"  By  dint  of 
persuasive  smiles  and  smirks  that  would  have  sick 
ened  him  at  any  other  time  he  finally  induced  her 
to  say  that  if  he  kept  right  on  until  he  came  to 
the  turnpike  he  would  find  a  sign-post  telling  him 
where  to  get  gasolene. 

"But  I  don't  want  gasolene.  I  want  bread  and 
butter,"  he  said. 

"Well,  you  can  git  bread  an'  butter  there  too," 
she  said.  "Food  fer  man  an'  beast,  it  says." 

"A  hotel?" 

"Whut?" 

"A  boarding-house?"  he  substituted. 

"It's  a  shindy,"  she  said,  painfully.  "Men  get 
drunk  there.  Pap  calls  it  a  tavern,  but  Ma  says 
it's  a  shindy." 

"A  road-house,  eh  ?"  She  was  puzzled — and  silent. 
"Thank  you.  You'll  find  the  quarter  in  the  grass. 
Good-bye." 


WAYFARERS  MEET  ON  A  HIGHWAY     3 

He  lifted  his  queer  green  hat  and  strode  away, 
too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  embarrass  her  by  look 
ing  back.  If  he  had  done  so  he  would  have  seen  her 
grubbing  stealthily  in  the  grass,  not  with  her  brown 
little  hands,  but  with  the  wriggling  toes  of  a  bare 
foot  on  which  the  mud,  perhaps  of  yesterday,  had 
caked.  She  was  too  proud  to  stoop. 

At  last  he  came  to  the  "pike"  and  there,  sure 
enough,  was  the  sign-post.  A  huge,  crudely  painted 
hand  pointed  to  the  left,  and  on  what  was  intended 
to  be  the  sleeve  of  a  very  stiff  and  unflinching  arm 
these  words  were  printed  in  scaly  white:  "Hart's 
Tavern.  Food  for  Man  and  Beast.  Also  Gaso 
lene.  Established  1798.  1  mile."  "Also  Gaso 
lene"  was  freshly  painted  and  crowded  its  elders  in 
a  most  disrespectful  manner. 

The  chill  spring  wind  of  the  gale  was  sweeping 
in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  giant  forefinger. 
There  was  little  consolation  in  the  thought  that  a 
mile  lay  between  him  and  shelter,  but  it  was  a  relief 
to  know  that  he  would  have  the  wind  at  his  back. 
Darkness  was  settling  over  the  land.  The  lofty  hills 
seemed  to  be  closing  in  as  if  to  smother  the  breath 
out  of  this  insolent  adventurer  who  walked  alone 
among  them.  He  was  an  outsider.  He  did  not  be 
long  there.  He  came  from  the  lowlands  and  he  was 
an  object  of  scorn. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  "pike,"  in  the  angle 
formed  by  a  junction  with  the  narrow  mountain 
road,  stood  a  humbler  sign-post,  lettered  so  indis 
tinctly  that  it  deserved  the  compassion  of  all  ob- 


4  GREEN  FANCY 

servers  because  of  its  humility.  Swerving  in  his 
hurried  passage,  the  tall  stranger  drew  near  this 
shrinking  friend  to  the  uncertain  traveller,  and  was 
suddenly  aware  of  another  presence  in  the  road 
way. 

A  woman  appeared,  as  if  from  nowhere,  almost 
at  his  side.  He  drew  back  to  let  her  pass.  She 
stopped  before  the  little  sign-post,  and  together 
they  made  out  the  faint  directions. 

To  the  right  and  up  the  mountain  road  Frogg's 
Corner  lay  four  miles  and  a  half  away;  Pitcairn 
was  six  miles  back  over  the  road  which  the  man  had 
travelled.  Two  miles  and  a  half  down  the  turn 
pike  was  Spanish  Falls,  a  railway  station,  and  four 
miles  above  the  cross-roads  where  the  man  and  wom 
an  stood  peering  through  the  darkness  at  the  laconic 
sign-post  reposed  the  village  of  Saint  Elizabeth. 
Hart's  Tavern  was  on  the  road  to  Saint  Elizabeth, 
and  the  man,  with  barely  a  glance  at  his  fellow- 
traveller,  started  briskly  off  in  that  direction. 

Lightning  was  flashing  fitfully  beyond  the  bar 
rier  heights  and  faraway  thunder  came  to  his  ears. 
He  knew  that  these  wild  mountain  storms  moved 
swiftly;  his  chance  of  reaching  the  tavern  ahead  of 
the  deluge  was  exceedingly  slim.  His  long,  power 
ful  legs  had  carried  him  twenty  or  thirty  paces  be 
fore  he  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 

What  of  this  lone  woman  who  traversed  the  high 
way?  Obviously  she  too  was  a  stranger  on  the 
road,  and  a  glance  over  his  shoulder  supported  a 
first  impression :  she  was  carrying  a  stout  travelling- 


WAYFARERS  MEET  ON  A  HIGHWAY     5 

bag.  His  first  glimpse  of  her  had  been  extremely 
casual, — indeed  he  had  paid  no  attention  to  her  at 
all,  so  eager  was  he  to  read  the  directions  and  be 
on  his  way. 

She  was  standing  quite  still  in  front  of  the  sign 
post,  peering  up  the  road  toward  Frogg's  Corner, 
— confronted  by  a  steep  climb  that  led  into  black 
and  sinister  timber-lands  above  the  narrow  strip  of 
pasture  bordering  the  pike. 

The  fierce  wind  pinned  her  skirts  to  her  slender 
body  as  she  leaned  against  the  gale,  gripping  her 
hat  tightly  with  one  hand  and  straining  under  the 
weight  of  the  bag  in  the  other.  The  ends  of  a  veil 
whipped  furiously  about  her  head,  and,  even  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  he  could  see  a  strand  or  two  of 
hair  keeping  them  company. 

He  hesitated.  Evidently  her  way  was  up  the 
steep,  winding  road  and  into  the  dark  forest,  a  far 
from  appealing  prospect.  Not  a  sign  of  habitation 
was  visible  along  the  black  ridge  of  the  wood;  no 
lighted  window  peeped  down  from  the  shadows,  no 
smoke  curled  up  from  unseen  kitchen  stoves.  Gal 
lantry  ordered  him  to  proffer  his  aid  or,  at  the  least, 
advice  to  the  woman,  be  she  young  or  old,  native  or 
stranger. 

Retracing  his  steps,  he  called  out  to  her  above 
the  gale: 

"Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you?" 

She  turned  quickly.  He  saw  that  the  veil  was 
drawn  tightly  over  her  face. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  replied.       Her  voice,  de- 


6  GREEN  FANCY 

spite  a  certain  nervous  note,  was  soft  and  clear  and 
gentle, — the  voice  and  speech  of  a  well-bred  person 
who  was  young  and  resolute. 

"Pardon  me,  but  have  you  much  farther  to  go? 
The  storm  will  soon  be  upon  us,  and — surely  you 
will  not  consider  me  presumptuous — I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  your  being  caught  out  in—: — " 

"What  is  to  be  done  about  it?"  she  inquired,  re 
signedly.  "I  must  go  on.  I  can't  wait  here,  you 
know,  to  be  washed  back  to  the  place  I  started 
from." 

He  smiled.  *She  had  wit  as  well  as  determination. 
There  was  the  suggestion  of  mirth  in  her  voice — 
and  certainly  it  was  a  most  pleasing,  agreeable 
voice. 

"If  I  can  be  of  the  least  assistance  to  you,  pray 
don't  hesitate  to  command  me.  I  am  a  sort  of 
tramp,  you  might  say,  and  I  travel  as  well  by 
night  as  I  do  by  day, — so  don't  feel  that  you  are 
putting  me  to  any  inconvenience.  Are  you  by  any 
chance  bound  for  Hart's  Tavern?  If  so,  I  will  be 
glad  to  lag  behind  and  carry  your  bag." 

"You  are  very  good,  but  I  am  not  bound  for 
Hart's  Tavern,  wherever  that  may  be.  Thank  you, 
just  the  same.  You  appear  to  be  an  uncommonly 
genteel  tramp,  and  it  isn't  because  I  am  afraid  you 
might  make  off  with  my  belongings."  She  added 
the  last  by  way  of  apology. 

He  smiled — and  then  frowned  as  he  cast  an  un 
easy  look  at  the  black  clouds  now  rolling  ominously 
up  over  the  mountain  ridge. 


WAYFARERS  MEET  ON  A  HIGHWAY     7 

"By  Jove,  we're  going  to  catch  it  good  and  hard," 
he  exclaimed.  "Better  take  my  advice.  These 
storms  are  terrible.  I  know,  for  I've  encountered 
half  a  dozen  of  them  in  the  past  week.  They  fairly 
tear  one  to  pieces." 

"Are  you  trying  to  frighten  me?" 

"Yes,"  he  confessed.  "Better  to  frighten  you, 
in  advance  than  to  let  it  come  later  on  when  you 
haven't  any  one  to  turn  to  in  your  terror.  You 
are  a  stranger  in  these  parts?" 

"Yes.  The  railway  station  is  a  few  miles  below 
here.  I  have  walked  all  the  way.  There  was  no  one 
to  meet  me.  You  are  a  stranger  also,  so  it  is  use 
less  to  inquire  if  you  know  whether  this  road  leads 
to  Green  Fancy." 

"Green  Fancy?  Sounds  attractive.  I'm  sorry  I 
can't  enlighten  you."  He  drew  a  small  electric  torch 
from  his  pocket  and  directed  its  slender  ray  upon 
the  sign-post.  So  fierce  was  the  gale  by  this  time 
that  he  was  compelled  to  brace  his  strong  body 
against  the  wind. 

"It  is  on  the  road  to  Frogg's  Corner,"  she  ex 
plained  nervously.  "A  mile  and  a  half,  so  I  am 
told.  It  isn't  on  the  sign-post.  It  is  a  house,  not 
a  village.  Thank  you  for  your  kindness.  And  I 
am  not  at  all  frightened,"  she  added,  raising  her 
voice  slightly. 

"But  you  are,'9  he  cried.  "You're  scared  half 
out  of  your  wits.  You  can't  fool  me.  I'd  be  scared 
myself  at  the  thought  of  venturing  into  those  woods 
up  yonder." 


8  GREEN  FANCY 

"Well,  then,  I  am  frightened,"  she  confessed  plain 
tively.  "Almost  out  of  my  boots." 

"That  settles  it,"  he  said  flatly.  "You  shall  not 
undertake  it." 

"Oh,  but  I  must.  I  am  expected.  It  is  im 
port " 

"If  you  are  expected,  why  didn't  some  one  meet 
you  at  the  station?  Seems  to  me " 

"Hark!  Do  you  hear — doesn't  that  sound  like 
an  automobile — Ah !"  The  hoarse  honk  of  an  auto 
mobile  horn  rose  above  the  howling  wind,  and  an 
instant  later  two  faint  lights  came  rushing  toward 
them  around  a  bend  in  the  mountain  road.  "Bet 
ter  late  than  never,"  she  cried,  her  voice  vibrant  once 
more. 

.  He  grasped  her  arm  and  jerked  her  out  of  the 
path  of  the  on-coming  machine,  whose  driver  was 
sending  it  along  at  a  mad  rate,  regardless  of  ruts 
and  stones  and  curves.  The  car  careened  as  it 
swung  into  the  pike,  skidded  alarmingly,  and  then 
the  brakes  were  jammed  down.  Attended  by  a  vast 
grinding  of  gears  and  wheels,  the  rattling  old  car 
came  to  a  stop  fifty  feet  or  more  beyond  them. 

"I'd  sooner  walk  than  take  my  chances  in  an 
antediluvian  rattle-trap  like  that,"  said  the  tall  way 
farer,  bending  quite  close  to  her  ear.  "It  will  fall 
to  pieces  before  you " 

But  she  was  running  down  the  road  towards  the 
car,  calling  out  sharply  to  the  driver.  He  stooped 
over  and  took  up  the  travelling  bag  she  had  dropped 


WAYFARERS  MEET  ON  A  HIGHWAY     9 

in  her  haste  and  excitement.  It  was  heavy,  amaz 
ingly  heavy. 

"I  shouldn't  like  to  carry  that  a  mile  and  a  half," 
he  said  to  himself. 

The  voice  of  the  belated  driver  came  to  his  ears 
on  the  swift  wind.  It  was  high  pitched  and  unmis 
takably  apologetic.  He  could  not  hear  what  she 
was  saying  to  him,  but  there  wasn't  much  doubt  as 
to  the  nature  of  her  remarks.  She  was  roundly  up 
braiding  him. 

Urged  to  action  by  thoughts  of  his  own  plight, 
he  hurried  to  her  side  and  said: 

"Excuse  me,  please.  You  dropped  something. 
Shall  I  put  it  up  in  front  or  in  the  tonneau?" 

The  whimsical  note  in  his  voice  brought  a  quick, 
responsive  laugh  from  her  lips. 

"Thank  you  so  much.  I  am  frightfully  careless 
with  my  valuables.  Would  you  mind  putting  it  in 
behind  ?  Thanks  !"  Her  tone  altered  completely  as 
she  ordered  the  man  to  turn  the  car  around — "And 
be  quick  about  it,"  she  added. 

The  first  drops  of  rain  pelted  down  from  the  now 
thoroughly  black  dome  above  them,  striking  in  the 
road  with  the  sharpness  of  pebbles. 

"Lucky  it's  a  limousine,"  said  the  tall  traveller. 
"Better  hop  in,  We'll  be  getting  it  hard  in  a  sec 
ond  or  two." 

"I  can't  very  well  hop  in  while  he's  backing  and 
twisting  like  that,  can  I?*?  she  laughed.  He  was 
acutely  aware  of  a  strained,  nervous  note  in  her 


10  GREEN  FANCY 

voice,  as  of  one  who  is  confronted  by  an  undertak 
ing  calling  for  considerable  fortitude. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  this  man?"  he  asked. 

"Absolutely,"  she  replied,  after  a  pause. 

"You  know  him,  eh?" 

"By  reputation,"  she  said  briefly,  and  without  a 
trace  of  laughter. 

"Well,  that  comforts  me  to  some  extent,"  he  said, 
but  dubiously. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  turned  to 
him  impulsively. 

"You  must  let  me  take  you  on  to  the  Tavern  in 
the  car,"  she  said.  "Turn  about  is  fair  play.  I 
cannot  allow  you  to " 

"Never  mind  about  me,"  he  broke  in  cheerily.  He 
had  been  wondering  if  she  would  make  the  offer,  and 
he  felt  better  now  that  she  had  done  so.  "I'm  accus 
tomed  to  roughing  it.  I  don't  mind  a  soaking.  I've 
had  hundreds  of  'em." 

"Just  the  same,  you  shall  not  have  one  to-night," 
she  announced  firmly.  The  car  stopped  beside  them. 
"Get  in  behind.  I  shall  sit  with  the  driver." 

If  any  one  had  told  him  that  this  rattling,  dilapi 
dated  automobile, — ten  years  old,  at  the  very  least, 
he  would  have  sworn, — was  capable  of  covering  the 
mile  in  less  than  two  minutes,  he  would  have  laughed 
in  his  face.  Almost  before  he  realised  that  they 
were  on  the  way  up  the  straight,  dark  road,  the 
lights  in  the  windows  of  Hart's  Tavern  came  into 
view.  Once  more  the  bounding,  swaying  car  came 
to  a  stop  under  brakes,  and  he  was  relaxing  after  the 


strain  of  the  most  hair-raising  ride  he  had  ever  ex 
perienced. 

Not  a  word  had  been  spoken  during  the  trip.  The 
front  windows  were  lowered.  The  driver, — an  old, 
hatchet-faced  man, — had  uttered  a  single  word  just 
before  throwing  in  the  clutch  at  the  cross-roads  in- 
response  to  the  young  woman's  crisp  command  to 
drive  to  Hart's  Tavern.  That  word  was  uttered  un 
der  his  breath  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  it 
here. 

He  lost  no  time  in  climbing  out  of  the  car.  As 
he  leaped  to  the  ground  and  raised  his  green  hat, 
he  took  a  second  look  at  the  automobile, — a  look  of 
mingled  wonder  and  respect.  It  was  an  old-fash 
ioned,  high-powered  Panhard,  capable,  despite  its 
antiquity,  of  astonishing  speed  in  any  sort  of  go 
ing. 

"For  heaven's  sake,"  he  began,  shouting  to  her 
above  the  roar  of  the  wind  and  rain,  "don't  let  him 
drive  like  that  over  those " 

"You're  getting  wet,"  she  cried  out,  a  thrill  in 
her  voice.  "Good  night, — and  thank  you !" 

"Look  out!"  rasped  the  unpleasant  driver,  and 
in  went  the  clutch.  The  man  in  the  road  jumped 
hastily  to  one  side  as  the  car  shot  backward  with  a 
jerk,  curved  sharply,  stopped  for  the  fraction  of  a 
second,  and  then  bounded  forward  again,  headed  for 
the  cross-roads. 

"Thanks!"  shouted  the  late  passenger  after  the 
receding  tail  light,  and  dashed  up  the  steps  to  the 
porch  that  ran  the  full  length  of  Hart's  Tavern. 


12  GREEN  FANCY 

In  the  shelter  of  its  low-lying  roof,  he  stopped 
short  and  once  more  peered  down  the  dark,  rain 
swept  road.  A  flash  of  lightning  revealed  the  fly 
ing  automobile.  He  waited  for  a  second  flash.  It 
came  an  instant  later,  but  the  car  was  no  longer 
visible.  He  shook  his  head.  "I  hope  the  blamed 
old  fool  knows  what  he's  doing,  hitting  it  up  like 
that  over  a  wet  road.  There'll  be  a  double  funeral 
in  this  neck  of  the  woods  if  anything  goes  wrong," 
he  reflected.  Still  shaking  his  head,  he  faced  the 
closed  door  of  the  Tavern. 

A  huge,  old-fashioned  lantern  hung  above  the 
portal,  creaking  and  straining  in  the  wind,  dragging 
at  its  stout  supports  and  threatening  every  instant 
to  break  loose  and  go  frolicking  away  with  the  storm. 

The  sound  of  the  rain  on  the  clap-board  roof  was 
deafening.  At  the  lower  end .  of  the  porch  the 
water  swished  in  with  all  the  velocity  of  a  gigantic 
wave  breaking  over  a  ship  at  sea.  The  wind  howled, 
the  thunder  roared  and  almost  like  cannon-fire  were 
the  successive  crashes  of  lightning  among  the  trees 
out  there  in  the  path  of  fury. 

There  were  lights  in  several  of  the  windows  open 
ing  upon  the  porch;  the  wooden  shutters  not  only 
were  ajar  but  were  banging  savagely  against  the 
walls.  Even  in  the  dim,  grim  light  shed  by  the 
lantern  he  could  see  that  the  building  was  of  an 
age  far  beyond  the  ken  of  any  living  man.  He  re 
called  the  words  of  the  informing  sign-post :  "Estab 
lished  in  1798."  One  hundred  and  eighteen  years 


old,  and  still  baffling  the  assaults  of  all  the  elements 
in  a  region  where  they  were  never  timid! 

It  may,  in  all  truth,  be  a  "shindy,"  thought  he, 
but  it  had  led  a  gallant  life. 

The  broad,  thick  weather-boarding,  overlapping 
in  layers,  was  brown  with  age  and  smooth  with  the 
polishing  of  time  and  the  backs,  no  doubt,  of  count 
less  loiterers  who  had  come  and  gone  in  the  making 
of  the  narrative  that  Hart's  Tavern  could  relate. 
The  porch  itself,  while  old,  was  comparatively  mod 
ern  ;  it  did  not  belong  to  the  century  in  which  the 
inn  itself  was  built,  for  in  those  far-off  days  men  did 
not  waste  time,  timber  or  thought  on  the  unneces 
sary.  While  the  planks  in  the  floor  were  worn  and 
the  uprights  battered  and  whittled  out  of  their  pris 
tine  shapeliness,  they  were  but  grandchildren  to  the 
parent  building  to  which  they  clung.  Stout  and, 
beyond  question,  venerable  benches  stood  close  to 
the  wall  on  both  sides  of  the  entrance.  Directly 
over  the  broad,  low  door  with  its  big  wooden  latch 
and  bar,  was  the  word  "Welcome,"  rudely  carved  in 
the  oak  beam.  It  required  no  cultured  eye  to  see 
that  the  letters  had  been  cut,  deep  and  strong,  into 
the  timber,  not  with  the  tool  of  the  skilled  wood 
carver  but  with  the  hunting  knife  of  an  ambitious 
pioneer. 

A  shocking  incongruity  marred  the  whole  effect. 
Suspended  at  the  side  of  this  hundred-year-old  door 
way  was  a  black  and  gold,  shield-shaped  ornament  of 
no  inconsiderable  dimensions  informing  the  observer 


14  GREEN  FANCY 

that  a  certain  brand  of  lager  beer  was  to  be  had  in 
side. 

He  lifted  the  latch  and,  being  a  tall  man,  invol 
untarily  stooped  as  he  passed  through  the  door,  a 
needless  precaution,  for  gaunt,  gigantic  mountain 
eers  had  entered  there  before  him  and  without  bend 
ing  their  arrogant  heads. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FIRST  WAYFARER  LAYS  HIS  PACK  ASIDE  AND  FALLS 
IN    WITH    FRIENDS 

THE  little  hall  in  which  he  found  himself  was 
the  "office"  through  which  all  men  must  pass 
who  come  as  guests  to  Hart's  Tavern.  A 
steep,  angular  staircase  took  up  one  end  of  the  room. 
Set  in  beneath  its  upper  turn  was  the  counter  over 
which  the  business  of  the  house  was  transacted,  and 
behind  this  a  man  was  engaged  in  the  peaceful  occu 
pation  of  smoking  a  corn-cob  pipe.  He  removed 
the  pipe,  brushed  his  long  moustache  with  the  back 
of  a  bony  hand,  and  bowed  slowly  and  with  grave 
ceremony  to  the  arrival. 

An  open  door  to  the  right  of  the  stairway  gave 
entrance  to  a  room  from  which  came  the  sound  of 
a  deep,  sonorous  voice,  employed  in  what  turned 
out  to  be  a  conversational  solo.  To  the  left  an 
other  door  led  to  what  was  evidently  the  dining- 
room.  The  glance  that  the  stranger  sent  in  that 
direction  revealed  two  or  three  tables,  covered  with 
white  cloths. 

"Can  you  put  me  up  for  the  night?"  he  inquired, 
advancing  to  the  counter. 

"You  look  like  a  feller  who'd  want  a  room  with 
15 


16  GREEN  FANCY 

bath,"  drawled  the  man  behind  the  counter,  survey 
ing  the  applicant  from  head  to  foot.  "Which  we 
ain't  got,"  he  added. 

"I'll  be  satisfied  to  have  a  room  with  a  bed," 
said  the  other. 

"Sign  here,"  was  the  laconic  response.  He  went 
to  the  trouble  of  actually  putting  his  finger  on  the 
line  where  the  guest  was  expected  to  write  his  name. 

"Can  I  have  supper?" 

"Food  for  man  and  beast,"  said  the  other  pa 
tiently.  He  slapped  his  palm  upon  a  cracked  call- 
bell,  and  then  looked  at  the  fresh  name  on  the  page. 
"Thomas  K.  Barnes,  New  York,"  he  read  aloud.  He 
eyed  the  newcomer  once  more.  "And  automobile?" 

"No.     I'm  walking." 

"Didn't  I  hear  you  just  come  up  in  a  car?" 

"A  fellow  gave  me  a  lift  from  the  cross-roads." 

"I  see.  My  name  is  Jones,  Putnam  Jones.  I  run 
this  place.  My  father  an'  grandfather  run  it  be 
fore  me.  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Barnes.  We  used 
to  have  a  hostler  here  named  Barnes.  What's  your 
idea  fer  footin'  it  this  time  o'  the  year?" 

"I  do  something  like  this  every  spring.  A  month 
or  six  weeks  of  it  puts  me  in  fine  shape  for  a  vaca 
tion  later  on,"  supplied  Mr.  Barnes  whimsically. 

Mr.  Jones  allowed  a  grin  to  steal  over  his  seamed 
face.  He  re-inserted  the  corn-cob  pipe  and  took  a 
couple  of  pulls  at  it. 

"I  never  been  to  New  York,  but  it  must  be  a  heav 
enly  place  for  a  vacation,  if  a  feller  c'n  judge  by 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  17 

what  some  of  my  present  boarders  have  to  say  about 
it.  It's  a  sort  of  play-actor's  paradise,  ain't  it?" 

"It  is  paradise  to  every  actor  who  happens  to  be 
on  the  road,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Barnes,  slipping  his 
big  pack  from  his  shoulders  and  letting  it  slide  to 
the  floor. 

"Hear  that  feller  in  the  tap-room  talkin'?  Well, 
he  is  one  of  the  leading  actors  in  New  York, — in  the 
world,  for  that  matter.  He's  been  talkin'  about 
Broadway  for  nearly  a  week  now,  steady." 

"May  I  enquire  what  he  is  doing  up  here  in  the 
wilds?" 

"At  present  he  ain't  doing  anything  except  talk. 
Last  week  he  was  treadin'  the  boards,  as  he  puts  it 
himself.  Busted.  Up  the  flue.  Showed  last  Satur 
day  night  in  Hornville,  eighteen  mile  north  of  here, 
and  immegiately  after  the  performance  him  and  his 
whole  troupe  started  to  walk  back  to  New  York,  a 
good  four  hunderd  mile.  They  started  out  the  back 
way  of  the  opery  house  and  nobody  missed  'em  till 
next  mornin'  except  the  sheriff,  and  he  didn't  miss 
'em  till  they'd  got  over  the  county  line  into  our 
bailiwick.  Four  of  'em  are  still  stoppin'  here  just 
because  I  ain't  got  the  heart  to  turn  'em  out  ner 
the  spare  money  to  buy  'em  tickets  to  New  York. 
Here  comes  one  of  'em  now.  Mr.  Dillingford,  will 
you  show  this  gentleman  to  room  eleven,  and  carry 
his  baggage  up  fer  him?  And  maybe  he'll  want  a 
pitcher  of  warm  water  to  wash  and  shave  in."  He 
turned  to  the  new  guest  and  smiled  apologetically. 


18  GREEN  FANCY 

"We're  a  little  short  o'  help  just  now,  Mr.  Barnes, 
and  Mr.  Dillingford  has  kindly  consented  to " 

"My  God!"  gasped  Mr.  Dillingford,  staring  at 
the  register.  "Some  one  from  little  old  New  York? 

My  word,  sir,  you Won't  you  have  a — er — little 

something  to  drink  with  me  before  you " 

"He  wants  something  to  eat,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Jones  sharply.  "Tell  Mr.  Bacon  to  step  up  to  his 
room  and  take  the  order.** 

"All  right,  old  chap, — nothing  easier,"  said  Mr. 
Dillingford  genially.  "Just  climb  up  the  elevator, 
Mr.  Barnes.  We  do  this  to  get  up  an  appetite. 
When  did  you  leave  New  York  ?" 

Taking  up  a  lighted  kerosene  lamp  and  the  heavy 
pack,  Mr.  Clarence  Dillingford  led  the  way  up  the 
stairs.  He  was  a  chubby  individual  of  indefinite 
age.  At  a  glance  you  would  have  said  he  was  un 
der  twenty-one ;  a  second  look  would  have  convinced 
you  that  he  was  nearer  forty-one.  He  was  quite 
shabby,  but  chin  and  cheek  were  as  clean  as  that 
of  a  freshly  scrubbed  boy.  He  may  not  have 
changed  his  collar  for  days  but  he  lived  up  to  the 
traditions  of  his  profession  by  shaving  twice  every 
twenty-four  hours. 

Depositing  Barnes'  pack  on  a  chair  in  the  little 
bedroom  at  the  end  of  the  hall  upstairs,  he  favoured 
the  guest  with  a  perfectly  unabashed  grin. 

"I'm  not  doing  this  to  oblige  old  man  Jones,  you 
know.  I  won't  attempt  to  deceive  you.  I'm  work 
ing  out  a  daily  bread-bill.  Chuck  three  times  a 
day  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in,  that's  what  I'm  doing  it 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  19 

for,  so  don't  get  it  into  your  head  that  I  applied 
for  the  job.  Let  me  take  a  look  at  you.  I  want 
to  get  a  good  square  peep  at  a  man  who  has  the 
means  to  go  somewhere  else  and  yet  is  boob  enough 
to  come  to  this  gosh-awful  place  of  his  own  free 
will  and  accord.  Darn  it,  you  look  intelligent.  I 
don't  get  you  at  all.  What's  the  matter?  Are 
you  a  fugitive  from  justice?" 

Barnes  laughed  aloud.  There  was  no  withstand 
ing  the  fellow's  sprightly  impudence. 

"I  happen  to  enjoy  walking,"  said  he. 

"If  I  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  you  do,  I'd  be  limp 
ing  into  Harlem  by  this  time,5*  said  Mr.  Dillingford 
sadly.  "But,  you  see,  I'm  an  actor.  I'm  too  proud 
to  walk." 

"Up  against  poor  business,  I  presume?" 

"Up  against  no  business  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Dilling 
ford.  "We  couldn't  even  get  'em  to  come  in  on 
passes.  Last  Saturday  night  we  had  out  enough 
paper  to  fill  the  house  and,  by  gosh,  only  eleven 
people  showed  up.  You  can't  beat  that,  can  you? 
Three  of  'em  paid  to  get  in.  That  made  a  dollar 
and  a  half,  box  office.  We  nearly  had  to  give  it 
back." 

"Bad  weather?"  suggested  Barnes  feelingly.  He 
had  removed  his  wet  coat,  and  stood  waiting. 

"Nope.  Moving  pictures.  They'd  sooner  pay 
ten  cents  to  see  a  movie  than  to  come  in  and  see  us 
free.  The  old  man  was  so  desperate  he  tried  to  kill 
himself  the  morning  we  arrived  at  this  joint." 


20  GREEN  FANCY 

"You  mean  the  star?     Poison,  rope  or  pistol?" 

"Whiskey.  He  tried  to  drink  himself  to  death. 
Before  old  Jones  got  onto  him  he  had  put  down 
seven  dollars'  worth  of  booze,  and  now  we've  got  to 
help  wipe  out  the  account.  But  why  complain? 
It's  all  in  a  day's " 

The  cracked  bell  on  the  office  desk  interrupted 
him,  somewhat  peremptorially.  Mr.  Dillingford's 
face  assumed  an  expression  of  profound  dignity.  He 
lowered  his  voice  as  he  gave  vent  to  the  follow 
ing: 

"That  man  Jones  is  the  meanest  human  being 

God  ever  let Yes,  sir,  coming,  sir !"  He  started 

for  the  open  door  with  surprising  alacrity. 

"Never  mind  the  hot  water,"  said  Barnes,  sorry 
for  the  little  man. 

"No  use,"  said  Mr.  Dillingford  dejectedly.  "He 
charges  ten  cents  for  hot  water.  You've  got  to  have 
it  whether  you  want  it  or  not.  Remember  that  you 
are  in  the  very  last  stages  of  New  England.  The 
worst  affliction  known  to  the  human  race.  So  long. 

I'll  be  back  in  two  shakes  of  a  lamb's "  The 

remainder  of  his  promise  was  lost  in  the  rush  of 
exit. 

Barnes  surveyed  the  little  bed-chamber.  It  was 
just  what  he  had  expected  it  would  be.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  a  garish  paper  selected  by  one 
who  had  an  eye  but  not  a  taste  for  colour:  bright 
pink  flowers  that  looked  more  or  less  like  chunks  of 
a  shattered  water  melon  spilt  promiscuously  over 
a  background  of  pearl  grey.  There  was  every  in- 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  21 

dication  that  it  had  been  hung  recently.  Indeed 
there  was  a  distinct  aroma  of  fresh  flour  paste.  The 
bedstead,  bureau  and  washstand  were  likewise  of 
fensively  modern.  Everything  was  as  clean  as  a 
pin,  however,  and  the  bed  looked  comfortable.  He 
stepped  to  the  small,  many-paned  window  and  looked 
out  into  the  night.  The  storm  was  at  its  height.  In 
all  his  life  he  never  had  heard  such  a  clatter  of  rain, 
nor  a  wind  that  shrieked  so  appallingly. 

His  thoughts  went  quite  naturally  to  the  woman 
who  was  out  there  in  the  thick  of  it.  He  wondered 
how  she  was  faring,  and  lamented  that  she  was  not 
in  his  place  now  and  he  in  hers.  A  smile  lighted  his 
eyes.  She  had  such  a  nice  voice  and  such  a  quaint 
way  of  putting  things  into  words.  What  was  she 
doing  up  in  this  God-forsaken  country?  And  how 
could  she  be  so  certain  of  that  grumpy  old  man 
whom  she  had  never  laid  eyes  on  before?  What 
was  the  name  of  the  place  she  was  bound  for?  Green 
Fancy !  What  an  odd  name  for  a  house !  And  what 
sort  of  house 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  return 
of  Mr.  Dillingford,  who  carried  a  huge  pewter 
pitcher  from  which  steam  arose  in  volume.  At  his 
heels  strode  a  tall,  cadaverous  person  in  a  checked 
suit. 

Never  had  Barnes  seen  anything  quite  so  over 
powering  in  the  way  of  a  suit.  Joseph's  coat  of 
many  colours  was  no  longer  a  vision  of  childhood. 
It  was  a  reality.  The  checks  were  an  inch  square, 
and  each  cube  had  a  narrow  border  of  azure  blue. 


22  GREEN  FANCY 

The  general  tone  was  a  dirty  grey,  due  no  doubt 
to  age  and  a  constitution  that  would  not  allow  it 
to  outlive  its  usefulness. 

"Meet  Mr.  Bacon,  Mr.  Barnes,"  introduced  Mr. 
Dillingford,  going  to  the  needless  exertion  of  indi 
cating  Mr.  Bacon  with  a  generous  sweep  of  his  free 
hand.  "Our  heavy  leads.  Mr.  Montague  Bacon, 
also  of  New  York." 

"Ham  and  eggs,  pork  tenderloin,  country  sausage, 
rump  steak  and  spring  chicken,"  said  Mr.  Bacon,  in 
a  cavernous  voice,  getting  it  over  with  while  the  list 
was  fresh  in  his  memory.  "Fried  and  boiled  pota 
toes,  beans,  succotash,  onions,  stewed  tomatoes  and 
— er — just  a  moment,  please.  Fried  and  boiled  pota 
toes,  beans r-" 

"Learn  your  lines,  Ague,"  said  Mr.  Dillingford, 
from  the  washstand.  "We  call  him  Ague  for  short, 
Mr.  Barnes,  because  he's  always  shaky  with  his 
lines." 

"Ham  and  eggs,  potatoes  and  a  cup  or  two  of 
coffee,"  said  Barnes,  suppressing  a  desire  to  laugh. 

"And  apple  pie,"  concluded  the  waiter,  tri 
umphantly.  "I  knew  I'd  get  it  if  you  gave  me  time. 
As  you  may  have  observed,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  not 
what  you  would  call  an  experienced  waiter.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I " 

"I  told  him  you  were  an  actor,"  interrupted  his 
friend.  "Run  along  now  and  give  the  order  to 
Mother  Jones.  Mr.  Barnes  is  hungry." 

"I  am  delighted  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said 
Mr.  Bacon,  extending  his  hand.  As  he  did  so,  his 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  23 

coat  sleeve  receded  half  way  to  the  elbow,  revealing 
the  full  expanse  of  a  frayed  cuff.  "So  delighted, 
in  fact,  that  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  inform 
you  that  you  have  at  last  encountered  a  waiter  who 
does  not  expect  a  tip.  God  forbid  that  I  should 
ever  sink  so  low  as  that.  I  have  been  a  villain  of  the 
deepest  dye  in  a  score  or  more  of  productions — many 
of  them  depending  to  a  large  extent  upon  the  char 
acter  of  the  work  I  did  in " 

"Actor  stuff,"  inserted  Mr.  Dillingford,  unfeel 
ingly. 

" — And  I  have  been  hissed  a  thousand  times  by 
gallery  gods  and  kitchen  angels  from  one  end  of 
this  broad  land  to  the  other,  but  never,  sir,  never 
in  all  my  career  have  I  been  obliged  to  play  such 
a  diabolical  part  as  I  am  playing  here,  and,  dammit, 
sir,  I  am  denied  even  the  tribute  of  a  healthy  hiss. 
This  is " 

The  bell  downstairs  rang  violently.  Mr.  Bacon 
departed  in  great  haste. 

While  the  traveller  performed  his  ablutions,  Mr. 
Dillingford,  for  the  moment  disengaged,  sat  upon  the 
edge  of  the  bed  and  enjoyed  himself.  He  talked. 

"We  were  nine  at  the  start,'*  said  he,  pensively. 
"Gradually  we  were  reduced  to  seven,  not  including 
the  manager.  I  doubled  and  so  did  Miss  Hughes, — 
a  very  charming  actress,  by  the  way,  who  will  soon 
be  heard  of  on  Broadway  unless  I  miss  my  guess. 
The  last  week  I  was  playing  Dick  Cranford,  light 
juvenile,  and  General  Parsons,  comedy  old  man.  In 
the  second  act  Dick  has  to  meet  the  general  face  to 


24  GREEN  FANCY 

face  and  ask  him  for  his  daughter's  hand.  Miss 
Hughes  was  Amy  Parsons,  and,  as  I  say,  doubled 
along  toward  the  end.  She  played  her  own  mother. 
The  best  you  could  say  for  the  arrangement  was 
that  the  family  resemblance  was  remarkable.  I 
never  saw  a  mother  and  daughter  look  so  much 
alike.  You  see,  she  didn't  have  time  to  change  her 
make-up  or  costume,  so  all  she  could  do  was  to  put 
on  a  long  shawl  and  a  grey  wig,  and  that  made  a 
mother  of  her.  Well,  we  had  a  terrible  time  get 
ting  around  that  scene  between  Dick  and  the  gen 
eral.  Amy  and  her  mother  were  in  on  it  too,  and 
Mrs.  Parsons  was  supposed  to  faint.  It  looked  abso 
lutely  impossible  for  Miss  Hughes.  But  we  got 
around  it,  all  right." 

"How,  may  I  ask?"  enquired  Barnes,  over  the 
edge  of  a  towel. 

"Just  as  I  was  about  to  enter  to  tackle  the  old 
man,  who  was  seated  in  his  library  with  Mrs.  Par 
sons,  the  lights  went  out.  I  jumped  up  and  ad 
dressed  the  audience,  telling  'em  (almost  in  a  con 
fidential  whisper,  there  were  so  darned  few  of  'em) 
that  there  was  nothing  to  be  alarmed  about  and  the 
act  would  go  right  on.  Then  Amy  and  Dick  came 
on  in  total  darkness,  and  the  audience  never  got  wise 
to  the  game.  When  the  lights  went  up,  there  was 
Amy  and  Dick  embracing  each  other  in  plain  view, 
the  old  folks  nowhere  in  sight.  General  Par 
sons  had  dragged  the  old  lady  into  the  next  room. 
We  made  our  changes  right  there  on  the  stage, 
speaking  all  four  parts  at  the  same  time." 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  25 

"Pretty  clever,"  said  Barnes. 

"My  idea,"  announced  Mr.  Dillingford  calmly. 

"What  has  become  of  the  rest  of  the  company?" 

"Well,  as  I  said  before,  two  of  'em  escaped  before 
the  smash.  The  low  comedian  and  character  old 
woman.  Joe  Beckley  and  his  wife.  That  left  the 
old  man, — I  mean  Mr.  Rushcroft,  the  star — Lyndon 
Rushcroft,  you  know, — myself  and  Bacon,  Tommy 
Gray,  Miss  Rushcroft,  Miss  Hughes  and  a  woman 
named  Bradley,  seven  of  us.  Miss  Hughes  happened 
to  know  a  chap  who  was  travelling  around  the  coun 
try  for  his  health,  always  meeting  up  with  us, — acci 
dentally,  of  course, — and  he  staked  her  to  a  ticket 
to  New  York.  The  woman  named  Bradley  said  her 
mother  was  dying  in  Buffalo,  so  the  rest  of  us  scraped 
together  all  the  money  we  had, — nine  dollars  and 
sixty  cents, — and  did  the  right  thing  by  her.  Actors 
are  always  doing  darn-fool  things  like  that,  Mr. 
Barnes.  And  what  do  you  suppose  she  did?  She 
took  that  money  and  bought  two  tickets  to  Albany, 
one  for  herself  and  another  for  the  manager  of  the 

company, the  lowest,  meanest,  orneriest  white 

man  that  ever, But  I  am  crabbing  the  old  man's 

part.  You  ought  to  hear  what  Tie  has  to  say  about 
Mr.  Manager.  He  can  use  words  I  never  even  heard  of 
before.  So,  that  leaves  just  the  four  of  us  here, 
working  off  the  two  days'  board  bill  of  Bradley  and 
the  manager,  Rushcroft's  ungodly  spree,  and  at  the 
same  time  keeping  our  own  slate  clean.  Miss  Thack 
eray  will  no  doubt  make  up  your  bed  in  the  morn- 


26  GREEN  FANCY 

ing.  She  is  temporarily  a  chambermaid.  Cracking 
fine  girl,  too,  if  I  do  say " 

"Miss  Thackeray?  I  don't  recall  your  mention- 
ing " 

"Mercedes  Thackeray  on  the  programme,  but  in 
real  life,  as  they  say,  Emma  Smith.  She  is  Rush- 
croft's  daughter." 

"Somewhat  involved,  isn't  it?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  Rushcroft's  real  name  is  Ot- 
terbein  Smith.  Horrible,  isn't  it?  He  sprung  from 
some  place  in  Indiana,  where  the  authors  come 
from.  Miss  Thackeray  was  our  ingenue.  A  trifle 
large  for  that  sort  of  thing,  perhaps,  but — very 
sprightly,  just  the  same.  She's  had  her  full  growth 
upwards,  but  not  outwards.  Tommy  Gray,  the 
other  member  of  the  company,  is  driving  a  taxi  in 
Hornville.  He  used  to  own  his  own  car  in  Spring 
field,  Mass.,  by  the  way.  Comes  of  a  very  good 
family.  At  least,  so  he  says.  Are  you  all  ready? 
I'll  lead  you  to  the  dining-room.  Or  would  you 
prefer  a  little  appetiser  beforehand  ?  The  tap-room 
is  right  on  the  way.  You  mustn't  call  it  the  bar. 
Everybody  in  that  little  graveyard  down  the  road 
would  turn  over  completely  if  you  did.  Hallowed 
tradition,  you  know." 

"I  don't  mind  having  a  cocktail.  Will  you  join 
me?" 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  Fm  expected  to,"  confessed 
Mr.  Dillingford.  "We've  been  drawing  quite  a  bit 
of  custom  to  the  tap-room.  The  rubes  like  to  sit 
around  and  listen  to  conversation  about  Broadway 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  27 

and  Bunker  Hill  and  Old  Point  Comfort  and  other 
places,  and  then  go  home  and  tell  the  neighbours 
that  they  know  quite  a  number  of  stage  people. 
Human  nature,  I  guess.  I  used  to  think  that  if 
I  could  ever  meet  an  actress  I'd  be  the  happiest  thing 
in  the  world.  Well,  I've  met  a  lot  of  'em,  and  God 
knows  I'm  not  as  happy  as  I  was  when  I  was  wishing 
I  could  meet  one  of  them.  Listen!  Hear  that? 
Rushcroft  is  reciting  Gunga  Din.  You  can't  hear 
the  thunder  for  the  noise  he's  making." 

They  descended  the  stairs  and  entered  the  tap 
room,  where  a  dozen  men  were  seated  around  the 
tables,  all  of  them  with  pewter  mugs  in  front  of 
them.  Standing  at  the  top  table, — that  is  to  say, 
the  one  farthest  removed  from  the  door  and  com 
manding  the  attention  of  every  creature  in  the  room 
— was  the  imposing  figure  of  Lyndon  Rushcroft. 
He  was  reciting,  in  a  sonorous  voice  and  with  tre 
mendous  fervour,  the  famous  Kipling  poem.  Barnes 
had  heard  it  given  a  score  of  times  at  The  Players 
in  New  York,  and  knew  it  by  heart.  He  was  there 
fore  able  to  catch  Mr.  Rushcroft  in  the  very  repre 
hensible  act  of  taking  liberties  with  the  designs  of 
the  author.  The  "star,"  after  a  sharp  and  rather 
startled  look  at  the  newcomer,  deliberately  "cut" 
four  stanzas  and  rushed  somewhat  hastily  through 
the  concluding  verse,  marring  a  tremendous  climax. 

A  genial  smile  wiped  the  tragic  expression  from 
his  face.  He  advanced  upon  Barnes  and  the  beam 
ing  Mr.  Dillingford,  his  hand  extended. 

"My    dear    fellow,"    he    exclaimed    resoundingly, 


28  GREEN  FANCY 

"how  are  you?"  Cordiality  boomed  in  his  voice. 
"I  heard  you  had  arrived.  Welcome, — thricefold 
welcome!"  He  neglected  to  say  that  Mr.  Montague 
Bacon,  in  passing  a  few  minutes  before,  had  leaned 
over  and  whispered  behind  his  hand: 

"Fellow  upstairs  from  New  York,  Mr.  Rushcroft, 
— fellow  named  Barnes.  Quite  a  swell,  believe  me." 

It  was  a  well-placed  tip,  for  Mr.  Rushcroft  had 
been  telling  the  natives  for  days  that  he  knew  every 
body  worth  knowing  in  New  York. 

Barnes  was  momentarily  taken  aback.  Then  he 
rose  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion. 

"Hello,  Rushcroft,"  he  greeted,  as  if  meeting  an 
old  time  and  greatly  beloved  friend.  "This  t*  good. 
'Pon  my  soul,  you  are  like  a  thriving  date  palm 
in  the  middle  of  an  endless  desert.  How  are  you?" 

They  shook  hands  warmly.  Mr.  Dillingford 
slapped  the  newcomer  on  the  shoulder,  affectionately, 
familiarly,  and  shouted : 

"Who  would  have  dreamed  we'd  run  across  good 
old  Barnesy  up  here  ?  By  Jove,  it's  marvellous !" 

"Friends,  countrymen,"  boomed  Mr.  Rushcroft, 
"this  is  Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York.  Not  the  man  the 
book  was  written  about,  but  one  of  the  best  fellows 
God  ever  put  into  this  little  world  of  ours.  I  do 
not  recall  your  names,  gentlemen,  or  I  would  intro 
duce  each  of  you  separately  and  divisibly.  And 
when  did  you  leave  New  York,  my  dear  fellow?" 

"A  fortnight  ago,"  replied  Barnes.  "I  have  been 
walking  for  the  past  two  weeks." 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  29 

Mr.  Rushcroft's  expression  changed.  His  face 
fell. 

"Walking?"  he  repeated,  a  trifle  stiffly.  Was  the 
fellow  a  tramp?  Was  he  in  no  better  condition  of  life 
than  himself  and  his  stranded  companions,  against 
whom  the  mockery  of  the  assemblage  was  slyly  but 
indubitably  directed?  If  so,  what  was  to  be  gained 
by  claiming  friendship  with  him?  It  behooved  him 
to  go  slow.  He  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 
"Well,  well!  Really?"  he  said. 

The  others  looked  on  with  interest.  The  majority 
were  farmers,  hardy,  rawboned  men  with  misty  eyes. 
Two  of  them  looked  like  mechanics, — blacksmiths, 
was  Barnes'  swift  estimate, — and  as  there  was  an 
odor  of  gasolene  in  the  low,  heavy-timbered  room, 
others  were  no  doubt  connected  with  the  tavern 
garage.  For  that  matter,  there  was  also  an  atmos 
phere  of  the  stables. 

Lyndon  Rushcroft  was  a  tall,  saggy  man  of  fifty. 
Despite  his  determined  erectness,  he  was  inclined  to 
sag  from  the  shoulders  down.  His  head,  huge  and 
grey,  appeared  to  be  much  too  ponderous  for  his 
yielding  body,  and  yet  he  carried  it  manfully,  even 
theatrically.  The  lines  in  his  dark,  seasoned  face 
were  like  furrows ;  his  nose  was  large  and  somewhat 
bulbous,  his  mouth  wide  and  grim.  Thick,  black 
eyebrows  shaded  a  pair  of  eyes  in  which  white  was 
no  longer  apparent ;  it  had  given  way  to  a  permanent 
red.  A  two  days'  stubble  covered  his  chin  and 
cheeks.  Altogether  he  was  a  singular  exemplifica 
tion  of  one's  idea  of  the  old-time  actor.  He  was 


30  GREEN  FANCY 

far  better  dressed  than  the  two  male  members  of  his 
company  who  had  come  under  Barnes'  observation. 
A  fashionably  made  cutaway  coat  of  black,  a  fancy 
waistcoat,  and  trousers  with  a  delicate  stripe  (sadly 
in  need  of  creasing)  gave  him  an  air  of  distinction 
totally  missing  in  his  subordinates.  (Afterwards 
Barnes  was  to  learn  that  he  was  making  daily  use 
of  his  last  act  drawing-room  costume,  which  included 
a  silk  hat  and  a  pair  of  pearl  grey  gloves.)  Evi 
dently  he  had  possessed  the  foresight  to  "skip  out" 
in  the  best  that  the  wardrobe  afforded,  leaving  his 
ordinary  garments  for  the  sheriff  to  lay  hands 
upon. 

"A  customary  adventure  with  me,"  said  Barnes. 
"I  take  a  month's  walking  tour  every  spring,  usu 
ally  timing  my  pilgrimage  so  as  to  miss  the  hoi-polloi 
that  blunders  into  the  choice  spots  of  the  world  later 
on  and  spoils  them  completely  for  me.  This  is  my 
first  jaunt  into  this  part  of  New  England.  Most 
attractive  walking,  my  dear  fellow.  Wonderful 
scenery,  splendid  air " 

"Deliver  me  from  the  hoi-polloi,"  said  Mr.  Rush- 
croft,  at  his  ease  once  more.  "I  may  also  add,  deliver 
me  from  walking.  I'm  damned  if  I  can  see  anything 
in  it.  What  will  you  have  to  drink,  old  chap  ?" 

He  turned  toward  the  broad  aperture  which 
served  as  a  passageway  in  the  wall  for  drinks  leav 
ing  the  hands  of  a  fat  bartender  beyond  to  fall  into 
the  clutches  of  thirsty  customers  in  the  tap-room. 
There  was  no  outstanding  bar.  A  time-polished 
shelf,  as  old  as  the  house  itself,  provided  the  afore- 


FALLING  IN  WITH  FRIENDS  31 

said  bartender  with  a  place  on  which  to  spread  his 
elbows  while  not  actively  engaged  in  advancing  mugs 
and  bottles  from  more  remote  resting-places  at  his 
back. 

"Everything  comes  through  'the  hole  in  the  wall,' ': 
explained  Rushcroft,  wrinkling  his  face  into  a  smile. 

He  unceremoniously  turned  his  back  on  the  audi 
ence  of  a  moment  before,  and  pounded  smartly  on 
the  shelf,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  bar 
tender  was  less  than  a  yard  away  and  facing  him 
expectantly.  "What  ho !  Give  ear,  professor.  Ye 
gods,  what  a  night !  Devil-brewed  pandemonium — I 
beg  pardon?" 

"I  was  just  about  to  ask  what  you  will  have," 
said  Barnes,  lining  up  beside  him  with  Mr.  Dilling- 
ford. 

Mr.  Rushcroft  drew  himself  up  once  more.  "My 
dear  fellow,  I  asked  you  to  have  a ' 

"But  I  had  already  invited  Dillingford.  You  must 
allow  me  to  extend  the  invitation " 

"Say  no  more,  sir.  I  understand  perfectly.  A 
flagon  of  ale,  Bob,  for  me."  He  leaned  closer  to 
Barnes  and  said,  in  what  was  supposed  to  be  a  con 
fidential  aside:  "Don't  tackle  the  whiskey.  It 
would  kill  a  rattlesnake." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  laid  one  hand  fondly  upon 
Barnes'  shoulder  and,  with  a  graceful  sweep  of  the 
other  in  the  direction  of  the  hall,  addressed  himself 
to  Dillingford. 

"Lead  the  way  to  the  banquet-hall,  good  fellow. 
We  follow."  To  the  patrons  he  was  abandoning: 


32  GREEN  FANCY 

"We  return  anon."  Passing  through  the  office,  his 
arm  linked  in  one  of  Barnes',  Mr.  Rushcroft  hesitated 
long  enough  to  impress  upon  Landlord  Jones  the 
importance  of  providing  his  "distinguished  friend, 
Robert  W.  Barnes,"  with  the  very  best  that  the  es 
tablishment  afforded.  Putnam  Jones  blinked  slight 
ly  and  his  eyes  sought  the  register  as  if  to  accuse  or 
justify  his  memory.  Then  he  spat  copiously  into 
the  corner,  a  necessary  preliminary  to  a  grin.  He 
hadn't  much  use  for  the  great  Lyndon  Rushcroft. 
His  grin  was  sardonic.  Something  told  him  that 
Mr.  Rushcroft  was  about  to  be  liberally  fed. 


CHAPTER  III 

MR.    RUSHCROFT    DISSOLVES,    MR.    JONES    INTERVENES, 
AND   TWO   MEN   RIDE  AWAY 

MR.  RUSHCROFT  explained  that  he  had  had 
his  supper.     In  fact,  he  went  on  to  confess, 
he   had    been   compelled,   like   the   dog,   to 
"speak"  for  it.      What  could  be  more  disgusting, 
more  degrading,  he  mourned,  than  the  spectacle  of  a 
man  who  had  appeared  in  all  of  the  principal  theatres 
of  the  land  as  star  and  leading  support  to  stars, 
settling  for  his  supper  by  telling  stories  and  reciting 
poetry  in  the  tap-room  of  a  tavern? 

"Still,"  he  consented,  when  Barnes  insisted  that 
it  would  be  a  kindness  to  him,  "since  you  put  it 
that  way,  I  dare  say  I  could  do  with  a  little  snack, 
as  you  so  aptly  put  it.  Just  a  bite  or  two.  Like 
you,  my  dear  fellow,  I  loathe  and  detest  eating  alone. 
I  covet  companionship,  convivial  com — what  have 
you  ready,  Miss  Tilly  ?" 

Miss  Tilly  was  a  buxom  female  of  forty  or  there 
abouts,  with  spectacles.  She  was  one  of  a  pair  of 
sedentary  waitresses  who  had  been  so  long  in  the 
employ  of  Mr.  Jones  that  he  hated  the  sight  of 
them.  Close  proximity  to  a  real  star  affected  her 

33 


34  GREEN  FANCY 

intensely.  In  fact,  she  was  dazzled.  For  something 
like  twenty  years  she  had  nursed  an  ambition  that 
wavered  between  the  desire  to  become  an  actress  or 
an  authoress.  At  present  she  despised  literature. 
More  than  once  she  had  confessed  to  Mr.  Rushcroft 
that  she  hated  like  poison  to  write  out  the  bill-o'- 
fare,  a  duty  devolving  solely  upon  her,  it  appears, 
because  of  a  local  tradition  that  she  possessed  liter 
ary  talent.  Every  one  said  that  she  wrote  the  best 
hand  in  the  county. 

Mr.  Rushcroft's  conception  of  a  bite  or  two  may 
have  staggered  Barnes  but  it  did  not  bewilder  Miss 
Tilly.  He  had  four  eggs  with  his  ham,  and  other 
things  in  proportion.  He  talked  a  great  deal,  prov 
ing  in  that  way  that  it  was  a  supper  well  worth 
speaking  for.  Among  other  things,  he  dilated  at 
great  length  upon  his  reasons  for  not  being  a  mem 
ber  of  The  Players  or  The  Lambs  in  New  York 
City.  It  seems  that  he  had  promised  his  dear,  de 
voted  wife  that  he  would  never  join  a  club  of  any 
description.  Dear  old  girl,  he  would  as  soon  have 
cut  off  his  right  hand  as  to  break  any  promise  made 
to  her.  He  brushed  something  away  from  his  eyes, 
and  his  chin,  contracting,  trembled  slightly. 

"Quite  right,"  said  Barnes,  sympathetically.  "And 
how  long  has  Mrs.  Rushcroft  been  dead?" 

A  hurt,  incredulous  look  came  into  Mr.  Rush- 
croft's  eyes.  "Is  it  possible  that  you  have  forgotten 
the  celebrated  case  of  Rushcroft  vs  Rushcroft,  not 
more  than  six  years  back?  Good  Lord,  man,  it  was 
one  of  the  most  sensational  cases  that  ever — But  I 


TWO  MEN  RIDE  AWAY  35 

see  that  you  do  not  recall  it.  You  must  have  been 
abroad  at  the  time.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  knew  of 
a  case  being  quite  so  admirably  handled  by  the  press 
as  that  one  was.  She  got  it  after  a  bitter  and  pro 
tracted  fight.  Infidelity.  Nothing  so  rotten  as 
cruelty  or  desertion, — no  sir.1" 

"Ahem!"  coughed  Miss  Tilly. 

"The  dear  old  girl  married  again,"  sighed  Mr. 
Rushcroft,  helping  himself  to  Barnes'  butter.  "Did 
very  well,  too.  Man  in  the  wine  trade.  He  saves 
a  great  deal,  you  see,  by  getting  it  at  cost,  and 
I  can  assure  you,  on  my  word  of  honour,  sir,  that 
he'll  find  it  quite  an  item.  What  is  it,  Mr.  Bacon? 
Any  word  from  New  York?" 

Mr.  Bacon  hovered  near,  perhaps  hungrily. 

"Our  genial  host  has  instructed  me  to  say  to  his 
latest  guest  that  the  rates  are  two  dollars  a  day, 
in  advance,  all  dining-room  checks  payable  on  pre 
sentation,"  said  Mr.  Bacon,  apologetically. 

Rushcroft  exploded.  "A  scurvy  insult,"  he 
boomed.  "Confound  his " 

The  new  guest  was  amiable.  He  interrupted  the 
outraged  star.  "Tell  Mr.  Jones  that  I  shall  settle 
promptly,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

The  "heavy  leads"  lowered  his  voice.  "He  told 
me  that  he  had  had  a  horrible  thought." 

"He  never  has  anything  else,"  said  Mr.  Rush 
croft. 

"It  has  just  entered  his  bean  that  you  may  be 
an  actor,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  Bacon. 

Miss  Tilly,  overhearing,  drew  a  step  or  two  nearer. 


36  GREEN  FANCY 

A  sudden  interest  in  Mr.  Barnes  developed.  She 
had  not  noticed  before  that  he  was  an  uncommonly 
good-looking  fellow.  She  always  had  said  that  she 
adored  strong,  "athaletic"  faces. 

"Hence  the  insult,"  said  Mr.  Rushcroft  bitterly. 
He  raised  both  arms  in  a  gesture  of  complete  dejec 
tion.  "My  God!" 

"Says  it  looks  suspicious,"  went  on  Mr.  Bacon, 
"flocking  with  us  as  you  do.  He  mentioned  some 
thing  about  birds  of  a  feather." 

Mr.  Rushcroft  arose  majestically.  "I  shall  see 
the  man  myself,  Mr.  Barnes.  His  infernal  inso 
lence " 

"Pray  do  not  distress  yourself,  my  dear  Rush 
croft,"  interrupted  Barnes.  "He  is  quite  within  his 
rights.  I  may  be  even  worse  than  an  actor.  J 
may  turn  out  to  be  an  ordinary  tramp."  He  took 
a  wallet  from  his  pocket,  and  smiled  engagingly  upon 
Miss  Tilly.  "The  check,  please." 

"For  both?"  inquired  she,  blinking. 

"Certainly.      Mr.  Rushcroft  was  my  guest." 

"Four  twenty  five,"  she  announced,  after  computa 
tion  on  the  back  of  the  menu. 

He  selected  a  five  dollar  bill  from  the  rather 
plethoric  purse  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"Be  so  good  as  to  keep  the  change,"  he  said,  and 
Miss  Tilly  went  away  in  a  daze  from  which  she  did 
not  emerge  for  a  long,  long  time. 

Later  on  she  felt  inspired  to  jot  down,  for  use 
no  doubt  in  some  future  literary  production,  a  con 
cise,  though  general,  description  of  the  magnificent 


TWO  MEN  RIDE  AWAY  37 

Mr.  Barnes.  She  utilised  the  back  of  the  bill-of-fare 
and  she  wrote  with  the  feverish  ardour  of  one  who 
dreads  the  loss  of  a  first  impression.  I  herewith 
append  her  visual  estimate  of  the  hero  of  this  story. 

"He  was  a  tall,  shapely  speciman  of  mankind," 
wrote  Miss  Tilly.  "Broad-sholdered.  Smooth 
shaved  face.  Penerating  grey  eyes.  Short  curly 
hair  about  the  colour  of  mine.  Strong  hands  of 
good  shape.  Face  tanned  considerable.  Heavy 
dark  eyebrows.  Good  teeth,  very  white.  Square 
chin.  Lovely  smile  that  seemed  to  light  up  the  room 
for  everybody  within  hearing.  Nose  ideal.  Mouth 
same.  Voice  aristocratic  and  reverberating  with 
education.  Age  about  thirty  or  thirty  one.  Rich 
as  Cro2sus.  Costume  resembling  the  picture  in  the 
English  novel  the  woman  forgot  and  left  here  last 
summer.  Well  turned  legs.  Would  make  a  good 
nobleman." 

All  this  would  appear  to  be  reasonably  definite 
were  it  not  for  the  note  regarding  the  colour  of  his 
hair.  It  leaves  to  me  the  simple  task  of  completing 
the  very  admirable  description  of  Mr.  Barnes  by  an 
nouncing  that  Miss  Tilly's  hair  was  an  extremely 
dark  brown. 

Also  it  is  advisable  to  append  the  following  bio 
graphical  information :  Thomas  Kingsbury  Barnes, 
engineer,  born  in  Montclair,  New  Jersey,  Sept.  26, 
1885.  Cornell  and  Beaux  Arts,  Paris.  Son  of 
the  late  Stephen  S.  Barnes,  engineer,  and  Edith 
(Valentine)  Barnes.  Office,  Metropolitan  Build 
ing,  New  York  City.  Residence,  Amsterdam  Man- 


38  GREEN  FANCY 

sions.  Clubs:  (Lack  of  space  prevents  listing  them 
here).  Recreations:  golf,  tennis,  and  horseback  rid 
ing.  Author  of  numerous  articles  resulting  from 
expeditions  and  discoveries  in  Peru  and  Ecuador. 
Fellow  of  the  Royal  Geographic  Society.  Member 
of  the  Loyal  Legion  and  the  Sons  of  the  American 
Revolution. 

Added  to  this,  the  mere  announcement  that  he  was 
in  a  position  to  indulge  a  fancy  for  long  and  per 
haps  aimless  walking  tours  through  more  or  less 
out  of  the  way  sections  of  his  own  country,  to  say 
nothing  of  excursions  in  Europe. 

Needless  to  say,  he  obtained  a  great  deal  of  pleas 
ure  from  these  lonely  jaunts,  and  at  the  same  time 
laid  up  for  future  use  an  ample  supply  of  mind's 
ease.  His  was  undoubtedly  a  romantic  nature.  He 
loved  the  fancies  that  his  susceptibilities  garnered 
from  the  hills  and  dales  and  fields  and  forests.  He 
never  tired  of  the  changing  prospect;  the  simple 
meadow  and  the  inspiring  mountain  peak  were  as  one 
to  his  generous  imagination.  He  found  something 
worth  while  in  every  mile  he  traversed  in  these  long 
and  solitary  tramps,  and  he  covered  no  fewer  than 
twenty  of  them  between  breakfast  and  dinner  unless 
ordered  by  circumstance  to  loiter  along  the  way. 

Each  succeeding  spring  he  set  out  from  his  "dig 
gings"  in  New  York  without  having  the  remotest 
idea  where  his  peregrinations  would  carry  him.  It 
was  his  habit  to  select  a  starting  point  in  advance, 
approach  that  spot  by  train  or  ship  or  motor,  and 
then  divest  himself  of  all  purpose  except  to  fare 


39 

forward  until  he  came  upon  some  haven  for  the 
night.  He  went  east  or  west,  north  or  south,  even 
as  the  winds  of  heaven  blow;  indeed,  he  not  infre 
quently  followed  them. 

For  five  or  six  weeks  in  the  early  spring  it  was 
his  custom  to  forge  his  daily  chain  of  miles  and, 
when  the  end  was  reached,  climb  contentedly  aboard 
a  train  and  be  transported,  often  by  arduous  means, 
to  the  city  where  millions  of  men  walk  with  a  def 
inite  aim  in  view.  He  liked  the  spring  of  the  year. 
He  liked  the  rains  and  the  winds  of  early  spring. 
They  meant  the  beginning  of  things  to  him. 

He  was  rich.  Perhaps  not  as  riches  are  measured 
in  these  Midas-like  days,  but  rich  beyond  the  de 
mands  of  avarice.  His  legacy  had  been  an  ample 
one.  The  fact  that  he  worked  hard  at  his  profes 
sion  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other, — not  excluding 
the  six  weeks  devoted  to  these  mentally  productive 
jaunts, — is  proof  sufficient  that  he  was  not  content 
to  subsist  on  the  fruits  of  another  man's  enterprise. 
He  was  a  worker.  He  was  a  creator,  a  builder  and 
a  destroyer.  It  was  part  of  his  ambition  to  destroy 
in  order  that  he  might  build  the  better. 

The  first  fortnight  of  a  proposed  six  weeks'  jaunt 
through  Upper  New  England  terminated  when  he 
laid  aside  his  heavy  pack  in  the  little  bed-room  at 
Hart's  Tavern.  Cock-crow  would  find  him  ready 
and  eager  to  begin  his  third  week.  At  least,  so  he 
thought.  But,  truth  is,  he  had  come  to  his  jour 
ney's  end;  he  was  not  to  sling  his  pack  for  many 
a  day  to  come. 


40  GREEN  FANCY 

After  setting  the  mind  of  the  landlord  at  rest, 
Barnes  declined  Mr.  Rushcroft's  invitation  to  "quaff" 
a  cordial  with  him  in  the  tap-room,  explaining  that 
he  was  exceedingly  tired  and  intended  to  retire  early 
(an  announcement  that  caused  unmistakable  dis 
tress  to  the  actor,  who  held  forth  for  some  time  on 
the  folly  of  "letting  a  thing  like  that  go  without 
taking  it  in  time,"  although  it  was  not  made  quite 
clear  just  what  he  meant  by  "thing").  Barnes  was 
left  to  infer  that  he  considered  fatigue  a  malady 
that  ought  to  be  treated. 

Instead  of  going  up  to  his  room  immediately, 
however,  he  decided  to  have  a  look  at  the  weather. 
He  stepped  out  upon  the  wet  porch  and  closed  the 
door  behind  him.  The  wind  was  still  high;  the 
lantern  creaked  and  the  dingy  sign  that  hung  above 
the  steps  gave  forth  raucous,  spasmodic  wails  as 
it  swung  back  and  forth  in  the  stiff,  raw  wind.  Far 
away  to  the  north  lightning  flashed  dimly ;  the  roar 
of  thunder  had  diminished  to  a  low,  half-hearted 
growl. 

His  uneasiness  concerning  the  young  woman  of  the 
cross-roads  increased  as  he  peered  at  the  wall  of 
blackness  looming  up  beyond  the  circle  of  light. 
He  could  not  see  the  towering  hills,  but  memory  pic 
tured  them  as  they  were  revealed  to  him  in  the 
gathering  darkness  before  the  storm.  She  was  some 
where  outside  that  sinister  black  wall  and  in  the 
smothering  grasp  of  those  invisible  hills,  but  was 
she  living  or  dead?  Had  she  reached  her  journey's 
end  safely?  He  tried  to  extract  comfort  from  the 


TWO  MEN  RIDE  AWAY  41 

confidence  she  had  expressed  in  the  ability  and  in 
tegrity  of  the  old  man  who  drove  with  far  greater 
recklessness  than  one  would  have  looked  for  in  a 
wild  and  irresponsible  youngster. 

He  recalled,  with  a  thrill,  the  imperious  manner 
in  which  she  gave  directions  to  the  man,  and  his 
surprising  servility.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him 
that  she  was  no  ordinary  person;  he  was  rather 
amazed  that  he  had  not  thought  of  it  before. 

She  had  confessed  to  total  ignorance  regarding 
the  driver  of  that  ramshackle  conveyance;  to  being 
utterly  at  sea  in  the  neighbourhood ;  to  having  walked 
like  any  country  bumpkin  from  the  railroad  sta 
tion,  lugging  an  unconscionably  heavy  bag;  and 
yet,  despite  all  this,  she  seemed  amazingly  sure  of 
herself.  He  recalled  her  frivolous  remark  about  her 
jewels,  and  now  wondered  if  there  had  not  been 
more  truth  than  jest  in  her  words.  Then  there  was 
the  rather  significant  alteration  in  tone  and  man 
ner  when  she  spoke  to  the  driver.  The  soft,  some 
what  deliberate  drawl  gave  way  to  sharp,  crisp 
sentences;  the  quaint  good  humour  vanished  and 
in  its  place  he  had  no  difficulty  in  remembering  a 
very  decided  note  of  command. 

Moreover,  now  that  he  thought  of  it,  there  was, 
even  in  the  agreeable  rejoinders  she  had  made  to  his 
offerings,  the  faint  suggestion  of  an  accent  that 
should  have  struck  him  at  the  time  but  did  not  for 
the  obvious  reason  that  he  was  then  not  at  all  in 
terested  in  her.  Her  English  was  so  perfect  that 
he  had  failed  to  detect  the  almost  imperceptible 


42  GREEN  FANCY 

foreign  flavour  that  now  took  definite  form  in  his 
reflections.  He  tried  to  place  this  accent.  Was 
it  French,  or  Italian,  or  Spanish?  Certainly  it  was 
not  German.  The  lightness  of  the  Latin  was  evi 
dent,  he  decided,  but  it  was  all  so  faint  and  remote 
that  classification  was  impossible,  notwithstanding 
his  years  of  association  with  the  peoples  of  many 
countries  where  English  is  spoken  more  perfectly 
by  the  upper  classes,  who  have  a  language  of  their 
own,  than  it  is  in  England  itself. 

He  took  a  few  turns  up  and  down  the  long  porch, 
stopping  finally  at  the  upper  end.  The  clear,  in 
spiring  clang  of  a  hammer  on  an  anvil  fell  suddenly 
upon  his  ears.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  The  hour 
was  nine,  certainly  an  unusual  time  for  men  to  be 
at  work  in  a  forge.  He  remembered  the  two  men 
in  the  tap-room  who  were  bare-armed  and  wore  the 
shapeless  leather  aprons  of  the  smithy. 

He  had  been  standing  there  not  more  than  half 
a  minute  peering  in  the  direction  from  whence  came 
the  rhythmic  bang  of  the  anvil, — at  no  great  dis 
tance,  he  was  convinced, — when  some  one  spoke  sud 
denly  at  his  elbow.  He  whirled  and  found  himself 
facing  the  gaunt  landlord. 

"Good  Lord!  You  startled  me,"  he  exclaimed. 
He  had  not  heard  the  approach  of  the  man,  nor  the 
opening  and  closing  of  the  tavern  door.  His  gaze 
travelled  past  the  tall  figure  of  Putnam  Jones  and 
rested  on  that  of  a  second  man,  who  leaned,  with 
legs  crossed  and  arms  folded,  against  the  porch  post 
directly  in  front  of  the  entrance  to  the  house,  his 


TWO  MEN  RIDE  AWAY  43 

features  almost  wholly  concealed  by  the  broad- 
brimmed  slouch  hat  that  came  far  down  over  his 
eyes.  He  too,  it  seemed  to  Barnes,  had  sprung  from 
nowhere. 

"Fierce  night,"  said  Putnam  Jones,  removing  the 
corn-cob  pipe  from  his  lips.  Then,  as  an  after 
thought:  "Sorry  I  skeert  you.  I  thought  you 
heerd  me." 

"I  was  listening  to  the  song  of  the  anvil,"  said 
Barnes,  as  the  landlord  moved  forward  and  took  his 
place  beside  him.  "It  has  always  possessed  a  sin 
gular  charm  for  me." 

"Special  hurry-up  job,"  said  Jones,  and  no  more. 

"Shoeing?" 

"Yep.  You'd  think  these  hayseeds  could  git  their 
horses  in  here  durin'  regular  hours,  wouldn't  you?" 

"I  dare  say  they  consider  their  own  regular  hours 
instead  of  yours,  Mr.  Jones." 

"I  didn't  quite  ketch  that." 

"I  mean  that  they  bring  their  horses  in  after 
their  regular  day's  work  is  done." 

"I  see.  Yes,  I  reckon  that's  the  idee."  After  a 
few  pulls  at  his  pipe,  the  landlord  inquired: 
"Where'd  you  walk  from  to-day  ?" 

"I  slept  in  a  farm-house  last  night,  about  fifteen 
miles  south  of  this  place  I  should  say." 

"That'd  be  a  little  ways  out  of  East  Cobb,"  specu 
lated  Mr.  Jones. 

"Five  or  six  miles." 

"Goin'  over  into  Canada?" 


44  GREEN  FANCY 

"No.  I  shall  turn  west,  I  think,  and  strike  for 
the  Lake  Champlain  country." 

"Canadian  line  is  only  a  few  miles  from  here," 
said  Jones.  "Last  summer  we  had  a  couple  of  crooks 
from  Boston  here,  makin'  a  dash  for  the  border. 
Didn't  know  it  till  they'd  been  gone  a  day,  how 
ever.  The  officers  were  just  a  day  behind  'em. 
Likely  lookin'  fellers,  too.  Last  men  in  the  world 
you'd  take  for  bank  robbers." 

"Bank  robbers,  as  a  rule,  are  very  classy  looking 
customers,"  said  Barnes. 

Mr.  Jones  grunted.  After  a  short  silence,  he 
branched  off  on  a  new  line.  "What  you  think  about 
the  war  ?  Think  it'll  be  over  soon  ?" 

"It  has  been  going  on  for  nearly  two  years,  and 
I  can't  see  any  signs  of  abatement.  Looks  to  me 
like  a  draw.  They're  all  tired  of  it." 

"Think  the  Germans  are  going  to  win?" 

"No.  They  can't  win.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
don't  see  how  the  Allies  can  win.  I  may  be  wrong, 
of  course.  The  Allies  are  getting  stronger  every 
day  and  the  Germans  must  surely  be  getting  weaker. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Jones,  I've  long  since 
stopped  speculating  on  the  outcome  of  the  war.  It 
is  too  big  for  me.  I  am  not  one  of  your  know-it-alls 
who  figure  the  whole  thing  out  from  day  to  day, 
and  then  wonder  why  the  fool  generals  didn't  have 
sense  enough  to  perform  as  expected." 

"I  wish  them  countries  over  there  would  let  me 
fix  'em  out  with  generals,"  drawled  Mr.  Jones.  "I 
could  pick  out  fifteen  or  twenty  men  right  here  in 


45 

this  district  that  could  show  'em  in  ten  minutes 
just  how  to  win  the  war.  You'd  be  surprised  to 
know  how  many  great  generals  we  have  running  two 
by  four  farms  and  choppin'  wood  for  a  livin'  up 
here.  And  there  are  fellers  settin'  right  in  there 
now  that  never  saw  a  body  of  water  bigger'n  Plum 
Pond,  an'  every  blamed  one  of  'em  knows  more'n 
the  whole  British  navy  about  ketchin'  submarines. 
The  quickest  way  to  end  the  war,  says  Jim  Roude- 
bush, — one  of  our  leadin'  ice-cutters, — is  for  the 
British  navy  to  bombard  Berlin  from  both  sides,  an' 
he  don't  see  why  in  thunder  they've  never  thought 
of  it.  I  suppose  you've  travelled  right  smart  in 
Europe?" 

"Quite  a  bit,  Mr.  Jones." 

"Any  partic'lar  part?" 

"No,"  said  Barnes,  suddenly  divining  that  he 
was  being  "pumped."  "One  end  to  the  other,  you 
might  say." 

"What  about  them  countries  down  around  Bul 
garia  and  Roumania?  I've  been  considerable  in 
terested  in  what's  going  to  become  of  them  if  Ger 
many  gets  licked.  What  do  they  get  out  of  it,  either 
way?" 

Barnes  spent  the  next  ten  minutes  expatiating 
upon  the  future  of  the  Balkan  states.  Jones  had 
little  to  say.  He  was  interested,  and  drank  in  all 
the  information  that  Barnes  had  to  impart.  He 
puffed  at  his  pipe,  nodded  his  head  from  time  to 
time,  and  occasionally  put  a  leading  question.  And 


46  GREEN  FANCY 

quite  as  abruptly  as  he  introduced  the  topic  he 
changed  it. 

"Not  many  automobiles  up  here  at  this  time  'o 
the  year,"  he  said.  "I  was  a  little  surprised  when 
you  said  a  feller  had  given  you  a  lift.  Where  from?" 

"The  cross-roads,  a  mile  down.  He  came  from 
the  direction  of  Frogg*s  Corner  and  was  on  his  way 
to  meet  some  one  at  Spanish  Falls."  Barnes  shrewd 
ly  leaped  to  the  conclusion  that  the  landlord's  in 
terest  in  the  European  War  was  more  or  less  as 
sumed.  The  man's  purpose  was  beginning  to  reveal 
itself.  He  was  evidently  curious,  if  not  actually 
concerned,  about  his  guest's  arrival  by  motor. 

"That's  queer,"  he  said,  after  a  moment.  "There's 
no  train  arrivin*  at  Spanish  Falls  as  late  as  six 
o'clock.  Gets  in  at  four-ten,  if  she's  on  time.  And 
she  was  reported  on  time  to-day." 

"It  appears  that  there  was  a  misunderstanding. 
The  driver  didn't  meet  the  train,  so  the  person  he 
was  going  after  walked  all  the  way  to  the  forks. 
We  happened  upon  each  other  there,  Mr.  Jones, 
and  we  studied  the  sign-post  together.  She  was 
bound  for  a  place  called  Green  Fancy." 

"Did  you  say  she?" 

"Yes.  I  was  proposing  to  help  her  out  of  her 
predicament  when  the  belated  motor  came  racing 
down  the  slope.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  was  wrong 
when  I  said  that  a  man  brought  me  here  in  an  auto 
mobile.  It  was  she  who  did  it.  She  gave  the  order. 
He  merely  obeyed, — and  not  very  willingly,  I  sus 
pect." 


TWO  MEN  RIDE  AWAY  47 

"What  for  sort  of  looking  lady  was  she?" 

"She  wore  a  veil,"  said  Barnes,  succinctly. 

"Young  ?" 

"I  had  that  impression.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Jones, 
what  and  where  is  Green  Fancy  ?" 

Jones  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  his  guest's 
glance  followed.  The  man  near  the  entrance  had 
been  joined  by  another. 

"Well,"  began  the  landlord,  lowering  his  voice, 
"it's  about  two  mile  and  a  half  from  here,  up  the 
mountain.  It's  a  house  and  people  live  in  it,  same 
as  any  other  house.  That's  about  all  there  is  to  say 
about  it." 

"Why  is  it  called  Green  Fancy?" 

"Because  it's  a  green  house,"  replied  Jones  suc 
cinctly. 

"You  mean  that  it  is  painted  green?" 

"Exactly.  Green  as  a  gourd.  A  man  named 
Curtis  built  it  a  couple  o'  year  ago  and  he  had  a 
fool  idee  about  paintin'  it  green.  Might  ha'  been 
a  little  crazy,  for  all  I  know.  Anyhow,  after  he 
got  it  finished  he  settled  down  to  live  in  it,  and  from 
that  day  to  this  he's  never  been  offn  the  place.  He 
didn't  seem  sick  or  anything,  so  we  can't  make  out 
his  object  in  shuttin'  himself  up  in  the  house  an' 
seldom  ever  stickin'  his  nose  outside  the  door." 

"Isn't  it  possible  that  he  isn't  there  at  all?" 

"He's  there  all  right.  Every  now  an'  then  he 
has  visitors, — just  like  this  woman  to-day, — and 
sometimes  they  come  down  here  for  supper.  They 
don't  hesitate  to  speak  of  him,  so  he  must  be  there. 


48  GREEN  FANCY 

Miss  Tilly  has  got  the  idee  that  he  is  a  reecluse,  if 
you  know  what  that  is." 

"It's  all  very  interesting.  I  should  say,  judging 
by  the  visitor  who  came  this  evening,  that  he  enter 
tains  extremely  nice  people." 

"Well,"  said  Jones  drily,  "they  claim  to  be  from 
New  York.  But,"  he  added,  "so  do  them  cheap 
skate  actors  in  there."  Which  was  as  much  as  to 
say  that  he  had  his  doubts. 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  ir 
regular  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  macadam. 
Off  to  the  left  a  dull  red  glow  of  light  spread  across 
the  roadway,  and  a  man's  voice  called  out :  "Whoa, 
dang  ye!" 

The  door  of  the  smithy  had  been  thrown  open  and 
some  one  was  leading  forth  freshly  shod  horses. 

A  moment  later  the  horses, — prancing,  high- 
spirited  animals, — their  bridle-bits  held  by  a  strap 
ping  blacksmith,  came  into  view.  Barnes  looked 
in  the  direction  of  the  steps.  The  two  men  had  dis 
appeared.  Instead  of  stopping  directly  in  front 
of  the  steps,  the  smith  led  his  charges  quite  a  dis 
tance  beyond  and  into  the  darkness. 

Putnam  Jones  abruptly  changed  his  position.  He 
insinuated  his  long  body  between  Barnes  and  the 
doorway,  at  the  same  time  rather  loudly  proclaim 
ing  that  the  rain  appeared  to  be  over. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  repeated,  "she  seems  to  have  let 
up  altogether.  Ought  to  have  a  nice  day  to-morrow, 
Mr.  Barnes, — nice,  cool  day  for  walkin'." 

Voices  came  up  from  the  darkness.     Jones  had  not 


TWO  MEN  RIDE  AWAY  49 

been  able  to  cover  them  with  his  own.  Barnes  caught 
two  or  three  sharp  commands,  rising  above  the  paw 
ing  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  then  a  great  clatter  as  the 
mounted  horsemen  rode  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
cross-broads.  The  beat  of  the  hoofs  became 
rhythmical  as  the  animals  steadied  into  a  swinging 
lope. 

Barnes  waited  until  they  were  muffled  by  distance, 
and  then  turned  to  Jones  with  the  laconic  remark : 

"They  seem  to  be  foreigners,  Mr.  Jones." 

Jones's  manner  became  natural  once  more.  He 
leaned  against  one  of  the  posts  and,  striking  a 
match  on  his  leg,  relighted  his  pipe. 

"Kind  o'  curious  about  'em,  eh?"  he  drawled. 

"It  never  entered  my  mind  until  this  instant  to 
be  curious,"  said  Barnes. 

"Well,  it  entered  their  minds  about  an  hour  ago 
to  be  curious  about  you,"  said  the  other. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN  EXTRAORDINARY  CHAMBERMAID,  A  MIDNIGHT  TRAG 
EDY,  AND  A  MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU" 

MISS  THACKERAY  was  "turning  down"  his 
bed  when  he  entered  his  room  after  bidding 
his  new  actor  friends  good  night.  All  three 
promised  to  be  up  bright  and  early  in  the  morning 
to  speed  him  on  his  way  with  good  wishes.  Mr.  Rush- 
croft  declared  that  he  would  break  the  habit  of  years 
and  get  up  in  time  to  partake  of  a  seven  o'clock 
breakfast  with  him.  Mr.  Dillingford  and  Mr.  Bacon, 
though  under  sentence  to  eat  at  six  with  the  rest 
of  the  "help,"  were  quite  sanguine  that  old  man 
Jones  wouldn't  mind  if  they  ate  again  at  seven.  So 
it  was  left  that  Barnes  was  to  have  company  for 
breakfast. 

He  was  staggered  and  somewhat  abashed  by  the 
appearance  of  Miss  Thackeray.  She  was  by  no 
means  dressed  as  a  chambermaid  should  be,  nor  was 
she  as  dumb.  On  the  contrary,  she  confronted  him 
in  the  choicest  raiment  that  her  wardrobe  contained, 
and  she  was  bright  and  cheery  and  exceedingly  in 
competent.  It  was  her  costume  that  shocked  him. 
Not  only  was  she  attired  in  a  low-necked,  rose- 
coloured  evening  gown,  liberally  bespangled  with 

50 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        51 

tinsel,  but  she  wore  a  vast  top-heavy  picture-hat 
whose  crown  of  black  was  almost  wholly  obscured 
by  a  gorgeous  white  feather  that  once  must  have 
adorned  the  king  of  all  ostriches.  She  was  not  at  all 
his  idea  of  a  chambermaid.  He  started  to  back  out 
of  the  door  with  an  apology  for  having  blundered 
into  the  wrong  room  by  mistake. 

"Come  right  in,"  she  said  cheerily.  "I'll  soon  be 
through.  I  suppose  I  should  have  done  all  this  an 
hour  ago,  but  I  just  had  to  write  a  few  letters."  She 
went  on  with  her  clumsy  operations.  "I  don't  know 
who  made  up  this  bed  but  whoever  did  was  deter 
mined  that  it  should  stay  put.  I  never  knew  that 
bed  clothes  could  be  tucked  in  as  far  and  as  tight 
as  these.  Tight  enough  for  old  Mother  Jones  to 
have  done  it  herself,  and  heaven  knows  she's  a  tight 
one.  I  am  Miss  Thackeray.  This  is  Mr.  Barnes,  I 
believe." 

He  bowed,  still  quite  overcome. 

"You  needn't  be  scared,"  she  cried,  observing  his 
confusion.  "This  is  my  regular  uniform.  I'm  start 
ing  a  new  style  for  chambermaids.  Did  it  paralyse 
you  to  find  me  here?" 

"I  must  confess  to  a  moment  of  indecision,"  he 
said,  smiling. 

"Followed  by  a  moment  of  uneasiness,"  she  added, 
slapping  the  bolster.  "You  didn't  know  what  to 
think,  now  did  you?" 

"I  couldn't  believe  my  eyes." 

She  abandoned  her  easy,  careless  manner.  A  look 
of  mortification  came  into  her  eyes  as  she  straight- 


52  GREEN  FANCY 

ened  up  and  faced  him.  Her  voice  was  a  trifle  husky 
when  she  spoke  again,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Barnes,  these  are  the  only  duds 
I  have  with  me.  It  wasn't  necessary  to  put  on  this 
hat,  of  course,  but  I  did  it  simply  to  make  the  char 
acter  complete.  I  might  just  as  well  make  beds  and 
clean  washstands  in  a  picture  hat  as  in  a  low-necked 
gown,  so  here  I  am." 

She  was  a  tall,  pleasant-faced  girl  of  twenty- 
three  or  four,  not  unlike  her  father  in  many  respects. 
Her  features  were  rather  heavy,  her  mouth  large 
but  comely,  her  eyes  dark  and  lustrous  behind  heavy 
lashes.  As  she  now  appeared  before  Barnes,  she 
was  the  typical  stage  society  woman :  in  other  words, 
utterly  commonplace.  In  a  drawing-room  she  would 
have  been  as  conspicuously  out  of  place  as  she  was 
in  her  present  occupation. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said  lamely.  "I  have  heard 
something  of  your  misfortunes  from  your  father  and 
— the  others.  It's — it's  really  hard  luck." 

"I  call  it  rather  good  luck  to  have  got  away  with 
the  only  dress  in  the  lot  that  cost  more  than  tup 
pence,"  she  said,  smiling  again.  "Lord  knows  what 
would  have  happened  to  me  if  they  had  dropped  down 
on  us  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  I  was  the  beggar's 
daughter,  you  see, — absolutely  in  rags." 

"You  might  have  got  away  in  your  ordinary 
street  clothes,  however,"  he  said ;  "which  would  have 
been  pleasanter,  I  dare  say." 

"I  dare  say,"  she  agreed  brightly.     "Glad  to  have 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        53 

met  you.  I  think  you'll  find  everything  nearly  all 
right.  Good  night,  sir." 

She  smiled  brightly,  unaffectedly,  as  she  turned 
toward  the  open  door.  There  was  something  fore- 
lorn  about  her,  after  all,  and  his  heart  was  touched. 

"Better  luck,  Miss  Thackeray.  Every  cloud  has 
its  silver  lining." 

She  stopped  and  faced  him  once  more.  "That's 
the  worst  bromide  in  the  language,"  she  said.  "If 
I  were  to  tell  you  how  many  clouds  I've  seen  and 
how  little  silver,  you'd  think  I  was  lying.  This 
experience?  Why,  it's  a  joy  compared  to  some  of 
the  jolts  we've  had, — dad  and  me.  And  the  others, 
too,  for  that  matter.  We've  had  to  get  used  to  it. 
Five  years  ago  I  would  have  jumped  out  of  a  ten 
story  window  before  I'd  have  let  you  see  me  in  this 
get-up.  I  know  you'll  laugh  yourself  sick  over  the 
way  I  look,  and  so  will  your  friends  when  you  tell 
them  about  me,  but,  thank  the  Lord,  I  shan't  be  in 
a  position  to  hear  you.  So  why  should  I  mind? 
What  a  fellow  doesn't  know,  isn't  going  to  hurt  him. 
You  haven't  laughed  in  my  face,  and  I'm  grateful 
for  that.  What  you  do  afterward  can't  make  the 
least  bit  of  difference  to  me." 

"I  assure  you,  Miss  Thackeray,  that  I  shall  not 
laugh,  nor  shall  I  ever  relate  the  story  of  your " 

"There  is  one  more  bromide  that  I've  never  found 
much  virtue  in,"  she  interrupted,  not  disagreeably, 
"and  that  is :  *it's  too  good  to  be  true.'  Good  night. 
Sleep  tight." 


54  GREEN  FANCY 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her,  leaving  him  stand 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  perplexed  but  amused. 

"By  George,"  he  said  to  himself,  still  staring 
at  the  closed  door,  "they're  wonders,  all  of  them. 
We  could  all  take  lessons  in  philosophy  from  such 
as  they.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  help  them 

out  of "  He  sat  down  abruptly  on  the  edge  of 

the  bed  and  pulled  his  wallet  from  his  pocket.  He 
set  about  counting  the  bills,  a  calculating  frown 
in  his  eyes.  Then  he  stared  at  the  ceiling,  summing 
up.  "I'll  do  it,"  he  said,  after  a  moment  of  mental 
figuring.  He  told  off  a  half  dozen  bills  and  slipped 
them  into  his  pocket.  The  wallet  sought  its  usual 
resting  place  for  the  night:  under  a  pillow. 

He  was  healthy  and  he  was  tired.  Two  minutes 
after  his  head  touched  the  pillow  he  was  sound 
asleep,  losing  consciousness  even  as  he  fought  to 
stay  awake  in  order  that  he  might  continue  to  vex 
himself  with  the  extraordinary  behavior  and  state 
ment  of  Putnam  Jones. 

He  was  aroused  shortly  after  midnight  by  shouts, 
apparently  just  outside  his  window.  A  man  was 
calling  in  a  loud  voice  from  the  road  below;  an  in 
stant  later  he  heard  a  tremendous  pounding  on 
the  tavern  door. 

Springing  out  of  bed,  he  rushed  to  the  window. 
There  were  horses  in  front  of  the  house, — several  of 
them, — and  men  on  foot  moving  like  shadows  among 
them.  A  shuffling  of  feet  came  up  to  his  open  win 
dow;  the  intervening  roof  shut  off  his  view  of  the 
porch  and  all  that  was  transpiring.  His  eyes,  ac- 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        55 

customed  to  darkness,  made  out  at  least  five  horses 
in  the  now  unlighted  area  before  the  tavern. 

Turning  from  the  window,  he  unlocked  and  opened 
the  door  into  the  hall.  Some  one  was  clattering 
down  the  narrow  staircase.  The  bolts  on  the  front 
door  shot  back  with  resounding  force,  and  there 
came  the  hoarse  jumble  of  excited  voices  as  men 
crowded  through  the  entrance.  Putnam  Jones's 
voice  rose  above  the  clamour. 

"Keep  quiet!  Do  you  want  to  wake  everybody 
on  the  place?"  he  was  saying  angrily.  "What's  up? 

This  is  a  fine  time  o'  night  to  be Good  Lord ! 

What's  the  matter  with  him?" 

"Telephone  for  a  doctor,  Put, — damn'  quick! 
This  one's  still  alive.  The  other  one  is  dead  as  a 
door  nail  up  at  Jim  Conley's  house.  Git  ole  Doc 
James  down  from  Saint  Liz.  Bring  him  in  here, 
boys.  Where's  your  lights?  Easy  now!  Eas-tftf/" 

Barnes  waited  to  hear  no  more.  His  blood  seemed 
to  be  running  ice-cold  as  he  retreated  into  the  room 
and  began  scrambling  for  his  clothes.  The  thing 
he  feared  had  come  to  pass.  Disaster  had  overtaken 
her  in  that  wild,  senseless  dash  up  the  mountain 
road.  He  was  cursing  half  aloud  as  he  dressed, 
cursing  the  fool  who  drove  that  machine  and  who 
now  was  perhaps  dying  down  there  in  the  tap-room. 
"The  other  one  is  dead  as  a  door  nail,"  kept  running 
through  his  head, — "the  other  one." 

The  rumble  of  voices  and  the  shuffling  of  feet  con 
tinued,  indistinct  but  laden  with  tragedy.  The  curi 
ous  hush  of  catastrophe  seemed  to  top  the  confu- 


56  GREEN  FANCY 

sion  that  infected  the  place,  inside  and  out.  Barnes 
found  his  electric  pocket  torch  and  dressed  hurried 
ly,  though  not  fully,  by  its  constricted  light.  As  he 
was  pulling  on  his  heavy  walking  shoes,  a  head  was 
inserted  through  the  half  open  door,  and  an  excited 
voice  called  out: 

"You  awake?  Good  work!  Hustle  along,  will 
you?  No  more  sleep  to-night,  old  chap.  Man  dy 
ing  downstairs.  Shot  smack  through  the  lungs.  Get 
a  move " 

"Shot?"  exclaimed  Barnes. 

"So  they  say,"  replied  the  agitated  Mr.  Dilling- 
ford,  entering  the  room.  He  had  slipped  on  his 
trousers  and  was  then  in  the  act  of  pulling  his  sus 
penders  over  his  shoulders.  His  unlaced  shoes  gaped 
broadly ;  the  upper  part  of  his  body  was  closely  en 
cased  in  a  once  blue  undershirt ;  his  abundant  black 
hair  was  tousled, — some  of  it,  indeed,  having  the  ap 
pearance  of  standing  on  end.  And  in  his  wide  eyes 
there  was  a  look  of  horror.  "I  didn't  hear  much  of 
the  story.  Old  man  Jones  is  telephoning  for  a  doc 
tor  and " 

"Did  you  say  that  the  man  was  shot?"  repeated 
Barnes,  bewildered.  "Wasn't  it  an  automobile  acci 
dent?" 

"Search  me.  Gosh,  I  had  one  look  at  that  fellow's 

face  down  there  and I  didn't  hear  another 

word  that  was  said.  I  never  saw  a  man's  face  look 
like  that.  It  was  the  colour  of  grey  wall  paper. 
Hurry  up !  Old  man  Jones  told  me  to  call  you.  He 
says  you  understand  some  of  the  foreign  languages, 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        57 

and  maybe  you  can  make  out  what  the  poor  devil  is 
trying  to  say." 

"Do  they  know  who  he  is?" 

"Sure.  He's  been  staying  in  the  house  for  three 
days.  The  other  one  spoke  English  all  right  but 
this  one  not  a  word." 

"Did  they  ride  away  from  here  about  nine 
o'clock?" 

"Yes.  They  had  their  own  horses  and  said  they 
were  going  to  spend  the  night  at  Spanish  Falls  so's 
they  could  meet  the  down  train  that  goes  through 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  But  hustle  along, 
please.  He's  trying  to  talk  and  he's  nearly  gone." 

Barnes,  buoyed  by  a  sharp  feeling  of  relief,  fol 
lowed  the  actor  downstairs  and  into  the  tap-room. 
A  dozen  men  were  there,  gathered  around  two  tables 
that  had  been  drawn  together.  Transient  lodgers, 
in  various  stages  of  deshabille,  popped  out  of  all 
sorts  of  passageways  and  joined  the  throng.  The 
men  about  the  table,  on  which  was  stretched  the 
figure  of  the  wounded  man,  were  undoubtedly  na 
tives  :  farmers,  woodsmen  or  employe's  of  the  tavern. 
At  a  word  from  Putnam  Jones,  they  opened  up  and 
allowed  Barnes  to  advance  to  the  side  of  the  man. 

"See  if  you  c'n  understand  him,  Mr.  Barnes," 
said  the  landlord.  Perspiration  was  dripping  from 
his  long,  raw-boned  face.  ""And  you,  Bacon, — you 
and  Dillingford  hustle  upstairs  and  get  a  mattress 
off 'n  one  of  the  beds.  Stand  at  the  door  there,  Pike, 
and  don't  let  any  women  in  here.  Go  away,  Miss 
Thackeray !  This  is  no  place  for  you." 


58  GREEN  FANCY 

Miss  Thackeray  pushed  her  way  past  the  man 
who  tried  to  stop  her  and  joined  Barnes.  Her  long 
black  hair  hung  in  braids  down  her  back ;  above  her 
forehead  clustered  a  mass  of  ringlets,  vastly  disor 
dered  but  not  untidy.  A  glance  would  have  revealed 
the  gaudy  rose-coloured  skirt  hanging  below  the  bot 
tom  of  the  long  rain-coat  she  had  snatched  from  a 
peg  in  the  hall-way. 

"It  is  the  place  for  me,"  she  said  sharply. 
"Haven't  you  men  got  sense  enough  to  put  some 
thing  under  his  head?  Where  is  he  hurt?  Get  that 
cushion,  you.  Stick  it  under  here  when  I  lift  his 
head.  Oh,  you  poor  thing!  We'll  be  as  quick  as 
possible.  There !" 

"You'd  better  go  away,"  said  Barnes,  himself 
ghastly  pale.  "He's  been  shot.  There  is  a  lot  of 
blood — don't  you  know.  It's  splendid  of  you " 

"Dangerously?"  she  cried,  shrinking  back,  her 
eyes  fixed  in  dread  upon  the  white  face. 

The  man's  eyes  were  closed,  but  at  the  sound  of  a 
woman's  voice  he  opened  them.  The  hand  with 
which  he  clutched  at  his  breast  slid  off  and  seemed 
to  be  groping  for  hers.  His  breathing  was  terrible. 
There  was  blood  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
more  oozed  forth  when  his  lips  parted  in  an  effort  to 
speak. 

With  a  courage  that  surprised  even  herself,  the 
girl  took  his  hand  in  hers.  It  was  wet  and  warm. 
She  did  not  dare  look  at  it. 

"Merci,  madame,"  struggled  from  the  man's  lips, 
and  he  smiled. 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        59 

Barnes  had  heard  of  the  French  soldiers  who,  as 
they  died,  said  "thank  you"  to  those  who  ministered 
to  them,  and  smiled  as  they  said  it.  He  had  al 
ways  marvelled  at  the  fortitude  that  could  put  grate 
fulness  above  physical  suffering,  and  his  blood  never 
failed  to  respond  to  an  exquisite  thrill  of  exaltation 
under  such  recitals,  Pie  at  once  deduced  that  the 
injured  man,  while  probably  not  a  Frenchman,  at 
least  was  familiar  with  the  language. 

He  was  young,  dark-haired  and  swarthy.  His 
riding-clothes  were  well-made  and  modish. 

Barnes  leaned  over  and  spoke  to  him  in  French. 
The  dark,  pain-stricken  eyes  closed,  and  an  almost 
imperceptible  shake  of  the  head  signified  that  he  did 
not  understand.  Evidently  he  had  acquired  only 
a  few  of  the  simple  French  expressions.  Barnes  had 
a  slight  knowledge  of  Spanish  and  Italian,  and  tried 
again  with  no  better  results.  German  was  his  last 
resort,  and  he  knew  he  would  fail  once  more,  for  the 
man  obviously  was  not  Teutonic. 

The  bloody  lips  parted,  however,  and  the  eyes 
opened  with  a  piteous,  appealing  expression  in  their 
depths.  It  was  apparent  that  there  was  something 
he  wanted  to  say,  something  he  had  to  say  before  he 
died.  He  gasped  a  dozen  words  or  more  in  a  tongue 
utterly  unknown  to  Barnes,  who  bent  closer  to  catch 
the  feeble  effort.  It  was  he  who  now  shook  his 
head;  with  a  groan  the  sufferer  closed  his  eyes  in 
despair.  He  choked  an4  coughed  violently  an  in 
stant  later. 

"Get  some  water  and  a  towel,"  cried  Miss  Thack- 


60  GREEN  FANCY 

eray,  tremulously.  She  was  very  white,  but  still 
clung  to  the  man's  hand.  "Be  quick!  Behind  the 
bar."  Then  she  turned  to  Jones.  "Don't  call  my 
father.  He  can't  stand  the  sight  of  blood,"  she 
said. 

Barnes  unbuttoned  the  coat  and  revealed  the 
blood-soaked  white  shirt. 

"Better  leave  this  to  me,"  he  said  in  her  ear. 
"There's  nothing  you  can  do.  He's  done  for.  Please 
go  away." 

"Oh,  I  sha'n't  faint — at  least,  not  yet.  Poor  fel 
low!  I've  seen  him  upstairs  and  wondered  who  he 
was.  Is  he  really  going  to  die?" 

"Looks  bad,"  said  Barnes,  gently  opening  the 
shirt  front.  Several  of  the  craning  men  turned 
away  suddenly. 

"Can't  you  understand  him?'*  demanded  Putnam 
Jones,  from  the  opposite  side. 

"No.    Did  you  get  the  doctor?" 

"He's  on  the  way  by  this  time.  He's  got  a  little 
automobile.  Ought  to  be  here  in  ten  or  fifteen  min 
utes." 

"Who  is  he,  Mr.  Jones?" 

"He  is  registered  as  Andrew  Paul,  from  New 
York.  That's  all  I  know.  The  other  man  put  his 
name  down  as  Albert  Roon.  He  seemed  to  be  the 
boss  and  this  man  a  sort  of  servant,  far  as  I  could 
make  out.  They  never  talked  much  and  seldom  came 
downstairs.  They  had  their  meals  in  their  room. 
Bacon  served  them.  Where  is  Bacon?  Where  the 
hell — oh,  the  mattress.  Now,  we'll  lift  him  up  gen- 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        61 

tie-like  while  you  fellers  slip  it  under  him.  Easy 
now.  Brace  up,  my  lad,  we — we  won't  hurt  you. 

Lordy !  Lordy !  I'm  sorry Gosh !  I  thought 

he  was  gone!"  He  wiped  his  brow  with  a  shaking 
hand. 

"There  is  nothing  we  can  Ho,"  said  Barnes,  "ex 
cept  try  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood.  He  is  bleeding 
inwardly,  Fm  afraid.  It's  a  clean  wound,  Mr.  Jones. 
Like  a  rifle  shot,  I  should  say." 

"That's  just  what  it  is,"  said  one  of  the  men,  a 
tall  woodsman.  "The  feller  who  did  it  was  a  dead 
shot,  you  c'n  bet  on  that.  He  got  t'  other  man 
square  through  the  heart." 

"Lordy,  but  this  win  raise  a  rumpus,"5  groaned 
the  landlord.  "We'll  have  detectives  an' " 

"I  guess  they  got  what  was  comin'  to  yem,"  said 
another  of  the  men. 

"What's  that?  Why,  they  was  ridin'  peaceful 
as  could  be  to  Spanish  Falls.  What  do  you  mean 
by  sayin'  that,  Jim  Conley?  But  wait  a  minute! 
How  does  it  happen  that  they  were  up  near  your 
dad's  house?  That  certainly  ain't  on  the  road  to 
Span " 

"Spanish  Falls  nothin'!  They  wasn't  goin*  to 
Spanish  Falls  any  more'n  I  am  at  this  minute. 
They  tied  their  bosses  up  the  road  just  above  our 
house,"  said  young  Conley,  lowering  his  voice  out 
of  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  the  helpless  man. 
"It  was  about  'leven  o'clock,  I  reckon.  I  was  comin' 
home  from  singin'  school  up  at  Number  Ten,  an' 
I  passed  the  hosses  hitched  to  the  fence.  Naturally 


62  GREEN  FANCY 

I  stopped,  curious  like.  There  wasn't  no  one  around, 
fer  as  I  could  see,  so  I  thought  I'd  take  a  look  to 
see  whose  hosses  they  were.  I  thought  it  was  derned 
funny,  them  hosses  bein*  there  at  that  time  o'  night 
an'  no  one  around.  So  as  I  said  before,  I  thought 
I'd  take  a  look.  I  know  every  hoss  fer  ten  mile 
around.  So  I  thought  Fd  take " 

"You  said  that  three  times,**  broke  in  Jones  im 
patiently. 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  thought  I'd 
take  a  look.  I  never  seen  either  of  them  animals 
before.  They  didn't  belong  around  here.  So  I 
thought  I'd  better  hustle  down  to  the  house  an' 
speak  to  pa  about  it.  Looked  mighty  queer  to  me. 
Course,  thinks  I,  they  might  belong  to  somebody 
visitin'  in  there  at  Green  Fancy,  so  I  thought 
I'd " 

"Green  Fancy?"  said  Barnes,  starting. 

"Was  it  up  that  far?"  demanded  Jones. 

"They  was  hitched  jest  about  a  hundred  yards 
below  Mr.  Curtis's  propity,  on  the  off  side  o'  the 
road.  Course  it's  quite  a  ways  in  from  the  road  to 
the  house,  an'  I  couldn't  see  why  if  it  was  anybody 
callin'  up  there  they  didn't  ride  all  the  ways  up, 
'stead  o'  walkin'  through  the  woods.  So  I  thought 
I'd  speak  to  pa  about  it.  Say,"  and  he  paused 
abruptly,  a  queer  expression  in  his  eyes,  "you  don't 
suppose  he  knows  what  Fm  say  in',  do  you?  I 
wouldn't  say  anything  to  hurt  the  poor  feller's  feel- 
in's  fer " 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        63 

"He  doesn't  know  what  you  are  saying,"  said 
Barnes. 

"But,  dern  it,  he  jest  now  looked  at  me  in  the 
funniest  way.  It's  given  me  the  creeps." 

"Go  on,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"Well,  I  hadn't  any  more'n  got  to  our  front  gate 
when  I  heard  some  one  running  in  the  road  up  there 
behind  me.  'Fore  I  knowed  what  was  happenin', 
bang  went  a  gun.  I  almost  jumped  out'n  my  boots. 
I  lept  behind  that  big  locus'  tree  in  front  of  our 
house  and  listened.  The  runnin'  had  stopped.  The 
hosses  was  rarin'  an'  tearin'  so  I  thought  I'd " 

"Where'd  the  shot  come  from?"  demanded  Jones. 

"Up  the  road  some'eres,  I  couldn't  swear  just 
where.  Must  'a'  been  up  by  the  road  that  cuts  in 
to  Green  Fancy.  So  I  thought  I'd  hustle  in  an'  see 
if  pa  was  awake,  an'  git  my  gun.  Looked  mighty 
suspicious,  thinks  I,  that  gun  shot.  Jest  then  pa 
stuck  his  head  out'n  the  winder  an'  yelled  what  the 
hell's  the  matter.  You  betcher  life  I  sung  out  who 
I  was  mighty  quick,  'cause  pa's  purty  spry  with  a 
gun  an'  I  didn't  want  him  takin'  me  fer  burglars 
sneakin'  around  the  house.  While  we  wuz  talkin' 
there,  one  of  the  hosses  started  our  way  lickety- 
split,  an'  in  about  two  seconds  it  went  by  us.  It 
was  purty  dark  but  we  see  plain  as  day  that  there 
was  a  man  in  the  saddle,  bendin'  low  over  the  hoss's 
neck  and  shoutin'  to  it.  Well,  we  shore  was  guessin'. 
We  waited  a  couple  o'  minutes,  wonderin'  what  to 
do,  an'  listenin'  to  the  hoss  gittin'  furder  and  furder 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  cross-roads.  Then, 


64  GREEN  FANCY 

'way  clown  there  by  the  pike  we  heerd  another  shot. 
Right  there  an*  then  pa  said  he'd  put  on  his  clothes 
an'  we'd  set  out  to  see  what  it  was  all  about.  I  had 
it  figgered  out  that  the  feller  on  the  hoss  had  shot 
the  other  one  and  waa  streakin*  it  fer  town  or  some- 
'eres.  That  second  shot  had  me  guessin'  though. 
Who  wuz  he  shootin*  at  now,  thinks  I. 

"Well,  pa  come  out  with  my  gun  an*  his'n  an'  we 
walks  up  to  where  I  seen  the  hosses.  Shore  'nough, 
one  of  'em  was  still  hitched  to  the  fence,  an*  t'other 
was  gone.  We  stood  around  a  minute  or  two  exam- 
inin'  the  hoss  an'  then  pa  says  let's  go  up  the  road 
aways  an'  see  if  we  c*n  see  anything.  An*  by  gosh, 
we  hadn't  gone  more'n  fifty  feet  afore  we  come  plumb 
on  a  man  layin'  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  Pa  shook 
him  an*  he  didn't  let  out  a  sound.  He  was  warm  but 
deader*n  a  tombstone.  I  wuz  fer  leavin'  him  there 
till  we  c'd  git  the  coroner,  but  pa  says  no.  We'd 
carry  him  down  to  our  porch,  an*  lay  him  there,  so's 
he'd  be  out  o'  danger.  Ma  an*  the  kids  wuz  all  up 
when  we  got  him  there,  an*  pa  sent  Bill  and  Charley 
over  to  Mr.  Pike's  and  Uncle  John's  to  fetch  'em 
quick.  I  jumps  on  Polly  an*  lights  out  fer  here, 
Mr.  Jones,  to  telephone  up  to  Saint  Liz  fer  the 
sheriff  an'  the  coroner,  not  givin*  a  dang  what  I  run 
into  on  the  way.  Polly  shied  somethin*  terrible  jest 
afore  we  got  to  the  pike  an*  I  come  derned  near 
bein'  throwed.  An*  right  there  'side  the  road  was 
this  feller,  all  in  a  heap.  I  went  back  an'  jumped 
off.  He  was  groanin*  somethin'  awful.  Thinks  I, 
you  poor  cuss,  you  must  'a'  tried  to  stop  that  feller 


MAN  WHO  SAID  "THANK  YOU"        65 

on  hossback  an'  he  plunked  you.  That  accounted 
fer  the  second  shot.  But  while  I  wuz  tryin'  to  lift 
him  up  an'  git  somethin'  out'n  him  about  the  mat 
ter,  I  sees  his  hoss  standin'  in  the  road  a  couple  o' 
rods  away.  I  couldn't  understand  a  word  he  said, 
so  I  thought  I  better  go  back  home  an'  git  some 
help,  seein's  I  couldn't  manage  him  by  myself.  So  I 
dragged  him  up  on  the  bank  an'  made  him  comfort 
able  as  I  could,  and  lit  out  fer  home.  We  thought 
we'd  better  bring  him  up  here,  Mr.  Jones,  it  bein' 
just  as  near  an'  you  could  git  the  doctor  sooner.  I 
hitched  up  the  buck-board  and  went  back.  Pa  an' 
some  of  the  other  fellers  took  their  guns  an'  went 
up  in  the  woods  lookin'  fer  the  man  that  done  the 
shootin'.  The  thing  that  worries  all  of  us  is  did  the 
same  man  do  the  shootin',  or  was  there  two  of  'em, 
one  waitin'  down  at  the  cross-roads?" 

"Must  have  been  two,"  said  Jones,  thoughtfully. 
"The  same  man  couldn't  have  got  down  there  ahead 
of  him,  that's  sure.  Did  anybody  go  up  to  Green 
Fancy  to  make  inquiries?" 

"  'Twasn't  necessary.  Mr.  Curtis  heard  the  shoot- 
in'  an'  jest  before  we  left  he  sent  a  man  out  to  see 
what  it  was  all  about.  The  old  skeezicks  that's  been 
drivin'  his  car  lately  come  down  half-dressed.  He 
said  nothin'  out  of  the  way  had  happened  up  at 
Green  Fancy.  Nobody  had  been  nosin*  around  their 
place,  an'  if  they  had,  he  said,  there  wasn't  anybody 
there  who  could  hit  the  side  of  a  barn  with  a  rifle." 

"It's  most  mysterious,"  said  Barnes,  glancing 
around  the  circle  of  awed  faces.  "There  must  have 


66  GREEN  FANCY 

been  some  one  lying  in  wait  for  these  men,  and  with 
a  very  definite  purpose  in  mind." 

"Strikes  me,"  said  Jones,  "that  these  two  men  were 
up  to  some  kind  of  dirty  work  themselves,  else  why 
did  they  say  they  were  goin'  to  Spanish  Falls  ?  It's 
my  idee  that  they  went  up  that  road  to  lay  fer  some 
body  comin'  down  from  the  border,  and  they  got 
theirs  good  an'  plenty  instead  of  the  other  way 
round.  They  were  queer  actin*  men,  I'll  have  to 
say  that." 

His  eyes  met  Barnes'  and  there  was  a  queer  light 
in  them. 

"You  don't  happen  to  know  anything  about  this, 
do  you,  Mr.  Barnes?"  he  demanded,  suddenly. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY  AND  AN  IRISH 
MAN   ENTERS 

BARNES  stared.     "What  do  you  mean?"  he 
demanded  sharply. 
"I  mean  just  what  I  said.     What  do  you 
know  about  this  business  ?" 

"How  should  I  know  anything  about  it?" 

"Well,  we  don't  know  who  you  are,  nor  what 
you're  doing  up  here,  nor  what  your  real  profes 
sion  is.  That's  why  I  ask  the  question." 

"I  see,"  said  Barnes,  after  a  moment.  He  grasped 
the  situation  and  he  admitted  to  himself  that  Jones 
had  cause  for  his  suspicions.  "It  has  occurred  to 
you  that  I  may  be  a  detective  or  a  secret  service 
man,  isn't  that  the  case?  Well,  I  am  neither.  More 
over,  this  man  and  his  companion  evidently  had  their 
doubts  about  me,  if  I  am  to  judge  by  your  remark 
and  your  actions  on  the  porch  earlier  in  the  eve 
ning." 

"I  only  said  that  they  were  curious  about  you. 
The  man  named  Roon  asked  me  a  good  many  ques 
tions  about  you  while  you  were  in  at  supper.  Who 
knows  but  what  he  was  justified  in  thinkin'  you 
didn't  mean  any  good  to  him  and  his  friend?" 

67 


68  GREEN  FANCY 

"Did  you  know  any  more  about  these  two  men, 
Mr.  Jones,  than  you  know  about  me?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  'em.  They  came 
here  like  any  one  else,  paid  their  bills  regular,  'tended 
to  their  own  business,  and  that's  all." 

"What  was  their  business?" 

"Mr.  Roon  was  lookin'  for  a  place  to  bring  his 
daughter  who  has  consumption.  He  didn't  want  to 
take  her  to  a  reg'lar  consumptive  community,  he 
said,  an'  so  he  was  lookin'  for  a  quiet  place  where 
she  wouldn't  be  associatin*  with  lungers  all  the  time. 
Some  big  doctor  in  New  York  told  him  to  come  up 
here  an'  look  around.  That  was  his  business,  Mr. 
Barnes,  an'  I  guess  you'd  call  it  respectable,  wouldn't 

you?" 

"Perfectly.  But  why  should  he  be  troubled  by 
my  presence  here  if " 

Miss  Thackeray  put  an  end  to  the  discussion  in 
a  most  effectual  manner. 

"Oh,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  cut  it  out!  Wait  till 
he's  dead,  can't  you?"  she  whispered  fiercely.  "You've 
got  all  the  time  in  the  world  to  talk,  and  he  hasn't 
more  than  ten  minutes  left  to  breathe  unless  that 
rube  doctor  gets  here  pretty  soon.  If  you've  got 
to  settle  the  question  right  away,  at  least  have  the 
decency  to  go  out  of  this  room." 

Barnes  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  Jones 
was  aghast,  dumb  with  surprise  and  anger. 

"You  are  right,  Miss  Thackeray,"  said  the  former, 
deeply  mortified.  "This  is  not  the  time  nor  the 
place  to " 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     69 

"He  can't  understand  a  word  we  say,"  said  Put 
nam  Jones  loudly.  "You  better  get  out  of  here 
yourself,  young  woman.  This  is  a  job  for  men, 
not " 

"I  think  he's  going  now,"  she  whispered  in  an  awe 
struck  voice.  "Keep  still,  all  of  you.  Is  he  breath 
ing,  Mr.  Barnes?  That  awful  cough  just  now 
seemed  to " 

"Come  away,  please,"  said  Barnes,  taking  her 
gently  by  the  arm.  "I — I  believe  that  was  the  end. 
Don't  stay  here,  Miss  Thackeray.  Dillingford,  will 
you  be  good  enough  to  escort  Miss " 

"I've  never  seen  any  one  die  before,"  she  said  in 
a  low,  tense  voice.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  still 
face.  "Why — why,  how  tightly  he  holds  my  hand! 
I  can't  get  it  away — he  must  be  alive,  Mr.  Barnes. 
Where  is  that  silly  doctor  ?" 

Barnes  unclasped  the  rigid  fingers  of  the  man 
called  Andrew  Paul,  and,  shaking  his  head  sadly, 
drew  her  away  from  the  improvised  bier.  He  and 
the  shivering  Mr.  Dillingford  conducted  her  to  the 
dining-room,  where  a  single  kerosene  lamp  gave  out 
a  feeble,  rather  ghastly  light.  The  tall  Bacon  fol 
lowed,  the  upper  part  of  his  person  enveloped  in  the 
blanket  Putnam  Jones  had  hastily  snatched  from 
the  mattress  before  it  was  slipped  under  the  dying 
man.  Several  of  the  women  of  the  house,  including 
the  wife  of  the  landlord,  clogged  the  little  entrance 
hall,  chattering  in  hushed  undertones. 

"Would    you    like    a    little    brandy?"    inquired 


70  GREEN  FANCY 

Barnes,  as  she  sat  down  limply  in  the  chair  he  pulled 
out  for  her.  "I  have  a  flask  upstairs  in  my " 

"I  never  touch  it,"  she  said.     "I'm  all  right.    My 

legs  wabble  a  little  but Sit  down,  Mr.  Barnes. 

I've  got  something  to  say  to  you  and  I'd  better  say 
it  now,  because  it  may  come  in  pretty  handy  for  you 
later  on.  Don't  let  those  women  come  in  here,  Dilly." 

Barnes  drew  a  chair  close  beside  her.  Bacon, 
with  scant  regard  for  elegance,  seated  himself  on 
the  edge  of  the  table  and  bent  an  ear. 

"It's  all  rot  about  that  man  Roon  being  here  to 
look  for  a  place  for  his  daughter."  She  spoke  rap 
idly  and  cautiously.  "I  don't  know  whether  Jones 
knows,  but  that  certainly  wasn't  what  he  was  here 
for.  The  young  fellow  in  there  was  a  sort  of  secre 
tary.  Roon  had  a  room  at  the  other  end  of  the 
hall  from  yours,  on  the  corner,  facing  the  road  and 
also  looking  toward  the  cross-roads.  Young  Paul 
had  the  next  room,  with  a  door  between.  I  was  sup 
posed  to  make  up  their  rooms  after  they'd  gone  out 
in  the  forenoon  for  a  horseback  ride.  I  kept  out  of 
their  sight,  because  I  knew  they  were  the  kind  of 
men  who  would  laugh  at  me.  They  couldn't  under 
stand,  and,  of  course,  I  couldn't  explain.  Yester 
day  morning  I  found  a  sort  of  map  on  the  floor  under 
young  Paul's  washstand.  The  wind  had  blown  it  off 
the  table  by  the  window  and  he  hadn't  missed  it.  It 
was  in  lead  pencil  and  looked  like  a  map  of  the  roads 
around  here.  I  couldn't  read  the  notations,  but  it 
required  only  a  glance  to  convince  me  that  this  place 
was  the  central  point.  All  of  the  little  mountain 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     71 

roads  were  there,  and  the  cross-roads.  There  wasn't 
anything  queer  about  it,  so  I  laid  it  on  his  table  and 
put  a  book  on  it. 

"This  afternoon  I  walked  up  in  the  woods  back 
of  the  Tavern  to  go  over  some  lines  in  a  new  piece 
we  are  to  do  later  on, — God  knows  when!  I  could 
see  the  house  from  where  I  was  sitting.  Roon's 
windows  were  plainly  visible.  I  wasn't  very  far  away, 
you  see,  the  climb  being  too  steep  for  me.  I  saw 
Roon  standing  at  a  window  looking  toward  the  cross 
roads  with  a  pair  of  field-glasses.  Every  once  in 
awhile  he  would  turn  to  Paul,  who  stood  beside  him 
•wath  a  notebook,  and  say  something  to  him.  Paul 
wrote  it  down.  Then  he  would  look  again,  turning 
the  glasses  this  way  and  that.  I  wouldn't  have 
thought  much  about  it  if  they  hadn't  spent  so  much 
time  there.  I  believe  I  watched  them  for  an  hour. 
Suddenly  my  eyes  almost  popped  out  of  my  head. 
Paul  had  gone  away  from  the  window.  He  came 
back  and  he  had  a  couple  of  revolvers  in  his  hands. 
They  stood  there  for  a  few  minutes  carefully  exam 
ining  the  weapons  and  reloading  them  with  fresh 
cartridges.  The  storm  was  coming  up,  but  I  love 
it  so  that  I  waited  almost  until  dark,  watching  the 
clouds  and  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  wind  in  the 
trees.  I'm  a  queer  girl  in  that  way.  I  like  turmoil. 
I  could  sit  out  in  the  most  dreadful  thunder  storm 
and  just  revel  in  the  crashes.  Just  as  I  was  about  to 
start  down  to  the  house — it  was  a  little  after  six 
o'clock,  and  getting  awfully  dark  and  overcast, — 
Roon  took  up  the  glasses  again.  He  seemed  to  be 


72  GREEN  FANCY 

excited  and  called  his  companion.  Paul  grabbed  the 
glasses  and  looked  down  the  road.  They  both  be 
came  very  much  excited,  pointing  and  gesticulating, 
and  taking  turn  about  with  the  glasses." 

"About  six  o'clock,  you  say  ?"  said  Barnes,  greatly 
interested. 

"It  was  a  quarter  after  six  when  I  got  back  to  the 
house.  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Bacon  about  what  I'd  seen 
and  he  said  he  believed  they  were  German  spies,  up 
to  some  kind  of  mischief  along  the  Canadian  border. 
Everybody  is  a  German  spy  nowadays,  Mr.  Barnes, 
if  he  looks  cross-wise.  Then  about  half  an  hour 
later  you  came  to  the  Tavern.  I  saw  Roon  sneak 
out  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  listen  to  your  con 
versation  with  Jones  when  you  registered.  That 
gave  me  an  idea.  It  was  you  they  were  watching 
the  road  for.  They  saw  you  long  before  you  got 
here,  and  it  was " 

Barnes  held  up  his  hand  for  silence.  "Listen," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "I  will  tell  you  who  they 
were  looking  for."  As  briefly  as  possible  he  re 
counted  his  experience  with  the  strange  young  woman 
at  the  cross-roads.  "From  the  beginning  I  have 
connected  this  tragedy  with  the  place  called  Green 
Fancy.  I'll  stake  my  last  penny  that  they  have 
been  hanging  around  here  waiting  for  the  arrival 
of  that  young  woman.  They  knew  she  was  coming 
and  they  doubtless  knew  what  she  was  bringing  with 
her.  They  went  to  Green  Fancy  to-night  with  a  very 
sinister  purpose  in  mind,  and  things  didn't  turn  out 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     73 

as  they  expected.  What  do  you  know  about  the 
place  called  Green  Fancy?" 

He  was  vastly  excited.  His  active  imagination 
was  creating  all  sorts  of  possibilities  and  complica 
tions,  depredations  and  intrigues. 

Bacon  was  the  one  who  answered.  He  drew  the 
blanket  closer  about  his  lean  form  and  shivered  as 
with  a  chill.  ^  ^^ 

"I  know  this  much  about  the  place  from  hearsay," 
he  said  in  a  guttural  whisper.  "It's  supposed  to  be 
haunted.  I've  heard  more  than  one  of  these  jays, — 
big  huskies  too, — say  they  wouldn't  go  near  the 
place  after  dark  for  all  the  money  in  the  state." 

"That's  just  talk  to  scare  you,  Ague,"  said  Dil- 
lingford.  "People  live  up  there  and  since  we've  been 
here  two  or  three  men  visitors  have  come  down  from 
the  place  to  sample  our  stock  of  wet  goods.  Noth 
ing  suspicious  looking  or  ghostly  about  them  either. 
I  talked  with  a  couple  of  'em  day  before  yesterday. 
They  were  out  for  a  horseback  ride  and  stopped 
here  for  a  mug  of  ale." 

"Were  they  foreigners?"  inquired  Barnes. 

"If  you  want  to  call  an  Irishman  a  foreigner,  I'll 
have  to  say  one  of  them  was.  He  had  a  beautiful 
brogue.  I'd  never  seen  an  Irishman  in  slick  riding 
clothes,  however,  so  I  doubted  my  ears  at  first.  You 
don't  associate  a  plain  Mick  with  anything  so  swell 
as  that,  you  know.  The  other  was  an  American, 
I'm  sure.  Yesterday  they  rode  past  here  with  a  cou 
ple  of  swell  looking  women.  I  saw  them  turn  up  the 


74  GREEN  FANCY 

road  to  Green  Fancy,  so  that  knocks  your  ghost 
story  all  to  smash,  Bacon." 

"It  isn't  my  ghost  story,"  began  Mr.  Bacon  indig 
nantly.  The  arrival  of  four  or  five  men,  who 
stamped  into  the  already  crowded  hallway  from  the 
porch  outside,  claimed  the  attention  of  the  quar 
tette.  Among  them  was  the  doctor  who,  they  were 
soon  to  discover,  was  also  the  coroner  of  the  county. 
A  very  officious  deputy  sheriff  was  also  in  the  group. 

Before  rejoining  the  crowd  in  the  tap-room, 
Barnes  advised  his  companions,  especially  the  girl, 
to  say  as  little  as  possible  about  what  they  had  heard 
and  seen. 

"This  thing  is  going  to  turn  out  to  be  a  whack 
ing  sensation,  and  it  may  be  a  great  deal  more  im 
portant  than  we  think.  You  don't  want  to  become 
involved  in  the  investigation,  which  may  become  a 
national  affair.  I'd  like  to  have  a  hand  in  clearing 
it  up.  My  head  is  chock-full  of  theories  that 
might " 

"Maybe  Roon  was  right,"  said  Dillingford,  slowly, 
as  he  edged  a  step  or  two  away  from  Barnes. 

"In  what  respect?" 

"He  certainly  thought  you  were  a  detective  or 
something  like  that.  Maybe  he  thought  you  came 
with  that  young  woman,  or  maybe  he  thought  you 
were  shadowing  her,  or " 

"There  are  a  lot  of  things  he  may  have  thought," 
interrupted  Barnes,  smiling.  "It  is  barely  possible 
that  my  arrival  may  have  caused  him  to  act  more 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     75 

hastily  than  he  intended.     That  may  be  the  reason 
why  the  job  ended  so  disastrously  for  him." 

Mrs.  Jones  called  out  from  the  doorway.  "Mr. 
Barnes,  you're  wanted  in  there." 

"All  right,"  he  responded. 

"Better  let  me  get  you  a  wet  towel  to  wash  your 
hand,"  said  Bacon  to  Miss  Thackeray.  "My  God, 
I  wouldn't  have  that  on  my  hand  for  a  million  dol 
lars." 

The  doctor  had  been  working  over  the  prostrate 
form  on  the  tables.  As  Barnes  entered  the  room,  he 
looked  up  and  declared  that  the  man  was  dead. 

"This  is  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  Putnam  Jones,  indi 
cating  the  tall  traveller  with  a  short  jerk  of  his 
thumb. 

"I  am  from  the  sheriff's  office,"  said  the  man  who 
stood  beside  the  doctor.  The  rest  of  the  crowd  evi 
dently  had  been  ordered  to  stand  back  from  the  ta 
bles.  The  sheriff  was  a  burly  fellow,  whose  voice 
shook  in  a  most  incongruous  manner,  despite  his 
efforts  to  appear  composed  and  otherwise  efficient. 
"Did  you  ever  see  this  man  before?" 

"Not  until  he  was  carried  in  here  half  an  hour  ago. 
I  arrived  here  this  evening." 

"What's  your  business  up  here,  Mr.  Barnes?" 

"I  have  no  business  up  here.  I  just  happened  to 
stroll  in  this  evening." 

"Well,"  said  the  sheriff  darkly,  "I  guess  I'll  have 
to  ask  you  to  stick  around  here  till  we  clear  this 

business  up.     We  don't  know  you  an' Well,  we 

can't  take  any  chances.    You  understand,  I  reckon." 


76  GREEN  FANCY 

"I  certainly  fail  to  understand,  Mr.  Sheriff.  I 
know  nothing  whatever  of  this  affair  and  I  intend  to 
continue  on  my  way  to-morrow  morning." 

"Well,  I  guess  not." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  am  to  be  detained  here 
against  my " 

"You  got  to  stay  here  till  we  are  satisfied  that 
you  don't  know  anything  about  this  business.  That's 
all." 

"Am  I  to  consider  myself  under  arrest,  sir  ?" 

"I  wouldn't  go  as  far  as  to  say  that.  You  just 
stick  around  here,  that's  all  I  got  to  say.  If  you're 
all  right,  we'll  soon  find  it  out.  What's  more,  if 
you  are  all  right  you'll  be  willin'  to  stay.  Do  you 
get  me?" 

"I  certainly  do.  And  I  can  now  assure  you,  Mr. 
Sheriff,  that  I'd  like  nothing  better  than  to  stick 
around  here,  as  you  put  it.  I'd  like  to  help  clear 
this  matter  up.  In  the  meantime,  you  may  readily 
find  out  who  I  am  and  why  I  am  here  by  telegraph 
ing  to  the  Mayor  of  New  York  City.  This  docu 
ment,  which  experience  has  taught  me  to  carry  for 
just  such  an  emergency  as  this,  may  have  some 
weight  with  you."  He  opened  his  bill-folder  and 
drew  forth  a  neatly  creased  sheet  of  paper.  This 
he  handed  to  the  sheriff.  "Read  it,  please,  and  note 
the  date,  the  signature,  the  official  seal  of  the  New 
York  Police  department,  and  also  the  rather  inter 
esting  silver  print  pasted  in  the  lower  left  hand  cor 
ner.  I  think  you  will  agree  that  it  is  a  good  like 
ness  of  me.  Each  year  I  take  the  precaution  of 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY  77 

having  myself  properly  certified  by  the  police  de 
partment  at  home  before  venturing  into  unknown 
and  perhaps  unfriendly  communities.  This,  in  a 
word,  is  a  guarantee  of  good  citizenship,  good  inten 
tions  and — good  health.  I  was  once  taken  up  by  a 
rural  Sherlock  on  suspicion  of  being  connected  with 
the  theft  of  a  horse  and  buggy,  although  all  the 
evidence  seemed  to  indicate  that  I  was  absolutely 
afoot  and  weary  at  the  time,  and  didn't  have  the  out 
fit  concealed  about  my  person.  I  languished  in  the 
calaboose  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  might  have 
remained  there  indefinitely  if  the  real  desperado 
hadn't  been  captured  in  the  nick  o'  time.  Have 
you  read  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  sheriff  dubiously;  "but  how  do  I 
know  it  ain't  a  forgery?" 

"You  don't  know,  of  course.  But  in  case  it 
shouldn't  be  a  forgery  and  I  am  subjected  to  the 
indignity  of  arrest  or  even  detention,  you  would 
have  a  nasty  time  defending  yourself  in  a  civil  suit 
for  damages.  Don't  misunderstand  me.  I  appre 
ciate  your  position.  I  shall  remain  here,  as  you 
suggest,  but  only  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  you  in 
getting  to  the  bottom  of  this  affair." 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  Doc?" 

"He  says  he's  willing  to  stay,  don't  he?  Well, 
what  more  can  you  ask?"  snapped  the  old  doctor. 
"I  should  say  the  best  thing  for  you  to  do,  Abner, 
is  to  get  a  posse  of  men  together  and  begin  raking 
the  woods  up  yonder  for  the  men  that  did  the  shoot 
ing.  You  say  there  is  another  one  dead  up  at  Jim 


78  GREEN  FANCY 

Conley's?  Well,  I'll  go  over  and  view  him  at  once. 
The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  establish  the  corpus  delicti. 
We've  got  to  be  able  to  say  the  men  are  dead  be 
fore  we  can  charge  anybody  with  murder.  This 
man  was  shot  in  the  chest,  from  in  front.  Now 
we'll  examine  his  clothes  and  so  forth  and  see  if 
they  throw  any  additional  light  on  the  matter." 

The  most  careful  search  of  Andrew  Paul's  person 
established  one  thing  beyond  all  question:  the  man 
had  deliberately  removed  everything  that  might  in 
any  way  serve  to  aid  the  authorities  in  determining 
who  he  really  was  and  whence  he  came.  The  tailor's 
tags  had  been  cut  from  the  smart,  well-fitting  gar 
ments  ;  the  buttons  on  the  same  had  been  replaced 
by  others  of  an  ordinary  character;  the  names  of 
the  haberdasher,  the  hat  dealer  and  the  boot  maker 
had  been  as  effectually  destroyed.  There  were  no 
papers  of  any  description  in  his  pockets.  His  wrist 
watch  bore  neither  name,  date  nor  initials.  Indeed, 
nothing  had  been  overlooked  in  his  very  palpable 
effort  to  prevent  actual  identification,  either  in  life 
or  death. 

Subsequent  search  of  the  two  rooms  disclosed  the 
same  extreme  precautions.  Not  a  single  object,  not 
even  a  scrap  of  paper  had  been  left  there  on  the  de 
parture  of  the  men  at  nine  o'clock.  Ashes  in  an  old- 
fashioned  fireplace  in  Roon's  room  suggested  the 
destruction  of  tell-tale  papers.  Everything  had  van 
ished.  A  large  calibre  automatic  revolver,  all  car 
tridges  unexploded,  was  found  in  Paul's  coat  pocket. 
In  another  pocket,  lying  loose,  were  a  few  bank  notes 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     79 

and  some  silver,  amounting  all  told  to  about  thirty 
dollars. 

The  same  thorough  search  of  the  dead  body  of 
Roon  later  on  by  the  coroner  and  sheriff,  revealed 
a  similar  condition.  The  field-glasses,  of  English 
make,  were  found  slung  across  his  shoulder,  and  a 
fully  loaded  revolver,  evidently  his,  was  discovered 
the  next  morning  in  the  grass  beside  the  road  near 
the  point  where  he  fell.  There  were  several  hundred 
dollars  in  the  roll  of  bills  they  found  in  his  inside 
coat  pocket. 

Roon  was  a  man  of  fifty  or  thereabouts.  Although 
both  men  were  smooth-faced,  there  was  reason  to 
suspect  that  Roon  at  least  had  but  recently  worn  a 
mustache.  His  upper  lip  had  the  thick,  stiff  look 
of  one  from  which  a  beard  of  long-standing  recently 
had  been  shaved. 

Later  on  it  was  learned  that  they  purchased  the 
two  horses  in  Hornville,  paying  cash  for  the  beasts 
and  the  trappings.  The  transaction  took  place  a 
day  or  two  before  they  came  to  Hart's  Tavern  for 
what  had  been  announced  as  a  short  stay. 

Standing  on  Jim  Conley's  front  porch  a  little 
after  sunrise,  Barnes  made  the  following  declara 
tion: 

"Everything  goes  to  show  that  these  men  were  up 
here  for  one  of  two  reasons.  They  were  either  try 
ing  to  prevent  or  to  enact  a  crime.  The  latter  is  my 
belief.  They  were  afraid  of  me.  Why?  Because 
they  believed  I  was  trailing  them  and  likely  to  spoil 
their  game.  Gentlemen,  those  fellows  were  here  for 


80  GREEN  FANCY 

the  purpose  of  robbing  the  place  you  call  Green 
Fancy." 

"What's  that?"  came  a  rich,  mellow  voice  from 
the  outskirts  of  the  crowd.  A  man  pushed  his  way 
through  and  confronted  Barnes.  He  was  a  tall, 
good-looking  fellow  of  thirty-five,  and  it  was  ap 
parent  that  he  had  dressed  in  haste.  "My  name  is 
O'Dowd,  and  I  am  a  guest  of  Mr.  Curtis  at  Green 
Fancy.  Why  do  you  think  they  meant  to  rob  his 
place?" 

"Well,"  began  Barnes  drily,  "it  would  seem  that 
his  place  is  the  only  one  in  the  neighbourhood  that 
would  bear  robbing.  My  name  is  Barnes.  Of  course, 
Mr.  O'Dowd,  it  is  mere  speculation  on  my  part." 

"But  who  shot  the  man?"  demanded  the  Irish 
man.  "He  certainly  wasn't  winged  by  any  one  from 
our  place.  Wouldn't  we  have  known  something 
about  it  if  he  had  attempted  to  get  into  the  house 
and  was  nailed  by —  Why,  Lord  love  you,  sir,  there 
isn't  a  soul  at  Green  Fancy  who  could  shoot  a  thief 
if  he  saw  one.  This  is  Mr.  De  Soto,  also  a  guest  at 
Green  Fancy.  He  will,  I  think,  bear  me  out  in  up 
setting  your  theory." 

A  second  man  approached,  shaking  his  head  vig 
orously.  He  was  a  thin,  pale  man  with  a  singularly 
scholastic  face.  Quite  an  unprepossessing,  unsan- 
guinary  person,  thought  Barnes. 

"Mr.  Curtis's  chauffeur,  I  think  it  was,  said  the 
killing  occurred  just  above  this  house,"  said  he,  vis 
ibly  excited.  "Green  Fancy  is  at  least  a  mile  from 
here,  isn't  it?  You  don't  shoot  burglars  a  mile  from 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     81 

the  place  they  are  planning  to  rob,  do  you?  Is  the 
man  a  native  of  this  community?" 

"No,"  said  Barnes,  on  whom  devolved  the  duties 
of  spokesman.  "By  the  way,  his  companion  lies 
dead  at  Hart's  Tavern.  He  was  shot  from  his  horse 
at  the  cross-roads." 

"God  bless  me  soul,"  gasped  O'Dowd.  "The 
chauffeur  didn't  mention  a  second  one.  And  were 
there  two  of  them?" 

"And  both  of  them  dead?"  cried  De  Soto.  "At 
the  cross-roads?  My  dear  sir,  how  can  you  recon 
cile "  He  broke  off  with  a  gesture  of  impa 
tience. 

"I'll  admit  it's  a  bit  out  of  reason,"  said  Barnes. 
"The  second  man  could  only  have  been  shot  by  some 
one  who  was  lying  in  wait  for  him." 

"Why,  the  thing's  as  clear  as  day,"  cried  O'Dowd, 
facing  the  crowd.  His  cheerful,  sprightly  face  was 
alive  with  excitement.  "They  were  not  trying  to  rob 
any  one.  They  were  either  trymg  to  get  across 
the  border  into  Canada  themselves  or  else  trying  to 
head  some  one  off  who  was  coming  from  that  side 
of  the  line." 

"Gad,  you  may  be  right,"  agreed  Barnes  instant 
ly.  "If  you'd  like  to  hear  more  of  the  story  I'll 
be  happy  to  relate  all  that  we  know  at  present." 

While  the  coroner  and  the  others  were  loading 
the  body  of  Albert  Roon  into  a  farm  wagon  for  con 
veyance  to  the  county-seat,  Barnes,  who  had  taken 
a  sudden  fancy  to  the  two  men  from  Green  Fancy, 
gave  them  a  brief  but  full  account  of  the  tragedy  and 


82  GREEN  FANCY 

the  result  of  investigations  as  far  as  they  had  gone. 

"Bedad,"  said  O'Dowd,  "it  beats  the  devil. 
There's  something  big  in  this  thing,  Mr.  Barnes, — 
something  a  long  shot  bigger  than  any  of  us  sus 
pects.  The  extraordinary  secrecy  of  these  fellows, 
their  evident  gentility,  their  doubtful  nationality — 
why,  bedad,  it  sounds  like  a  penny-dreadful  thriller." 

"You'll  find  that  it  resolves  itself  into  a  problem 
for  Washington  to  solve,"  said  De  Soto  darkly. 
"Nothing  local  about  it,  take  my  word  for  it.  These 
men  were  up  to  some  international  devilment.  I'm 
not  saying  that  Germany  is  at  the  back  of  it,  but,  by 
Jove,  I  don't  put  anything  beyond  the  beggars. 
They  are  the  cleverest,  most  resourceful  people  in 
the  world,  damn  'em.  You  wait  and  see  if  I'm  not 
right.  There'll  be  a  stir  in  Washington  over  this, 
sure  as  anything." 

"What  time  was  it  that  you  heard  the  shots  up  at 
Green  Fancy?"  ventured  Barnes. 

"Lord  love  you,"  cried  O'Dowd,  "we  didn't  hear 
a  sound.  Mr.  Curtis,  who  has  insomnia  the  worst 
way,  poor  devil,  heard  them  and  sent  some  one  out 
to  see  what  all  the  racket  was  about.  It  wasn't 
till  half  an  hour  or  so  ago  that  De  Soto  and  I  were 
routed  out  of  our  peaceful  nests  and  ordered, — 
virtually  ordered,  mind  you, — to  get  up  and  guard 
the  house.  Mr.  Curtis  was  in  a  pitiful  state  of 
nerves  over  the  killing,  and  so  were  the  ladies.  'Gad, 
everybody  seemed  to  know  all  about  the  business  ex 
cept  De  Soto  and  me.  The  man,  it  seems,  made  such 
a  devil  of  a  racket  when  he  came  home  with  the  news 


FARM-BOY  TELLS  A  GHASTLY  STORY     83 

that  the  whole  house  was  up  in  pajamas  and  peig^- 
noirs.  He  didn't  say  anything  about  a  second  John 
nie  being  shot,  however.  I'm  glad  he  didn't  know 
about  it,  for  that  matter.  He'll  be  seeing  one  ghost 
for  the  rest  of  his  days  and  that's  enough,  without 
having  another  foisted  upon  him." 

"I  think  I  have  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the 
chauffeur,"  said  Barnes.  "He  gave  me  the  most 
thrilling  motor  ride  I've  ever  experienced.  'Gad, 
I'll  never  forget  it." 

The  two  men  looked  at  him,  plainly  perplexed. 

"When  was  all  this?"  inquired  De  Soto. 

"Early  last  evening.  He  took  me  from  the  cross 
roads  to  Hart's  Tavern  in  a  minute  and  a  half,  I'll 
"bet  my  soul." 

"Last  evening?"  said  O'Dowd,  something  like 
skepticism  in  his  tone. 

"Yes.  He  picked  up  your  latest  guest  at  the  cor 
ners,  and  she  insisted  on  his  driving  me  to  the  Tav 
ern  before  the  storm  broke.  I've  been  terribly  anx 
ious  about  her.  She  must  have  been  caught  out  in 
all  that  frightful " 

"What's  this  you  are  saying,  Mr.  Barnes?"  cut 
in  De  Soto,  frowning.  "No  guest  arrived  at  Green 
Fancy  last  evening,  nor  was  one  expected." 

Barnes  stared.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she 
didn't  get  there,  after  all?" 

"She?  A  woman,  was  it?"  demanded  O'Dowd. 
"Bedad,  if  she  said  she  was  coming  to  Green  Fancy 
she  was  spoofing  3*ou.  Are  you  sure  it  was  old  Peter 
who  gave  you  that  jolly  ride?" 


84  GREEN  FANCY 

"No,  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Barnes,  uneasily.  "She 
was  afoot,  having  walked  from  the  station  below. 
I  met  her  at  the  corners  and  she  asked  me  if  I  knew 
how  far  it  was  to  Green  Fancy,  or  something  like 
that.  Said  she  was  going  there.  Then  along  came 
the  automobile,  rattling  down  this  very  road, — an 
ancient  Panhard  driven  by  an  old  codger.  She 
seemed  to  think  it  was  all  right  to  hop  in  and  trust 
herself  to  him,  although  she'd  never  seen  him  before." 

"The  antique  Panhard  fits  in  all  right,"  said 
O'Dowd,  "but  I'm  hanged  if  the  woman  fits  at  all. 
No  such  person  arrived  at  Green  Fancy  last  night." 

"Did  you  get  a  square  look  at  the  driver's  face?" 
demanded  De  Soto. 

"It  was  almost  too  dark  to  see,  but  he  was  old, 
hatchet-faced,  and  spoke  with  an  accent." 

"Then  it  couldn't  have  been  Peter,"  said  De  Soto 
positively.  "He's  old,  right  enough,  but  he  is  as 
big  as  the  side  of  a  house,  with  a  face  like  a  full 
moon,  and  he  is  Yankee  to  his  toes.  By  gad,  Barnes, 
the  plot  thickens!  A  woman  has  been  added  to  the 
mystery.  Now,  who  the  devil  is  she  and  what  has 
become  of  her?" 


CHAPTER  VI 

CHARITY   BEGINS    FAR    FROM    HOME,    AND    A    STROLL   IN 
THE    WILDWOOD    FOLLOWS 

MR.  RUSHCROFT  was  furious  when  he  arose 
at  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morning  after  the 
double  murder,  having  slept  like  a  top 
through  all  of  the  commotion.  He  boomed  all  over 
the  place,  vocal  castigations  falling  right  and  left 
on  the  guilty  and  the  innocent  without  distinction. 
He  wouldn't  have  missed  the  excitement  for  any 
thing  in  the  world.  He  didn't  mind  missing  the  break 
fast  he  was  to  have  had  with  Barnes,  but  he  did 
feel  outraged  over  the  pusillanimous  trick  played 
upon  him  by  the  remaining  members  of  his  troupe. 
Nothing  was  to  have  been  expected  of  Putnam  Jones 
and  his  damnation  crew;  they  wouldn't  have  called 
him  if  the  house  was  afire;  they  would  let  him  roast 
to  death ;  but  certainly  something  was  due  him  from 
the  members  of  his  company,  something  better  than 
utter  abandonment! 

He  was  still  deep  in  the  sulks  when  he  came  upon 
Barnes,  who  was  pacing  the  sunlit  porch,  deep  in 
thought. 

"There  will  never  be  another  opportunity  like 
that,"  he  groaned,  at  the  close  of  a  ten  minute  dis- 

85 


86  GREEN  FANCY 

sertation  on  the  treachery  of  friends ;  "never  in  all 
the  years  to  come.  The  driveling  fools !  What  do  I 
pay  them  for?  To  let  me  lie  there  snoring  so  loud 
that  I  couldn't  hear  opportunity  for  the  noise  I  was 
making?  As  in  everything  else  I  undertake,  my 
dear  Barnes,  I  excel  at  snoring.  My  lung  capacity 
is  something  amazing.  It  has  to  have  an  outlet. 
They  let  me  lie  there  like  a  log  while  the  richest 
publicity  material  that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  an 
actor  went  to  waste, — utter  waste.  Why,  damme, 
sir,  I  could  have  made  that  scene  in  the  tap-room  his 
toric;  I  could  have  made  it  so  dramatic  that  it 
would  have  thrilled  to  the  marrow  every  man,  woman 
and  child  in  the  United  States  of  America.  That's 
what  I  mean.  They  allowed  a  chance  like  that  to  get 
away.  Can  you  beat  it?  Tragedy  at  my  very  el 
bow, — by  gad,  almost  nudging  me,  you  might  say, — 
and  no  one  to  tell  me  to  get  up.  Think  of  the  aw 
ful  requiem  I  could  have —  But  what's  the  use  think 
ing  about  it  now?  I  am  so  exasperated  I  can't  think 
of  anything  but  anathemas,  so " 

"I  don't  see  how  you  managed  to  sleep  through 
it,"  Barnes  broke  in.  "You  must  have  an  unusually 
clear  conscience,  Mr.  Rushcroft." 

"I  haven't  any  conscience  at  all,  sir,"  roared  the 
star.  "I  had  an  unusually  full  stomach,  that's  what 
was  the  matter  with  me.  Damme,  I  ought  to  have 
known  better.  I  take  oath  now,  sir,  never  to  eat 
again  as  long  as  I  live.  A  man  who  cannot  govern 
his  beastly  appetite  ought  to  defy  it,  if  nothing 
else." 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME     87 

"I  gather  from  that  remark  that  you  omitted 
breakfast  this  morning." 

"Breakfast,  sir?  In  God's  name,  I  implore  you 
not  to  refer  to  anything  so  disgusting  as  stewed 
prunes  and  bacon  at  a  time  like  this.  My  mind 
is " 

"How  about  luncheon?  Will  you  join  me  at 
twelve- thirty  ?" 

"That's  quite  another  matter,"  said  Mr.  Rush- 
croft  readily.  "Luncheon  is  an  aesthetic  tribute  to 
the  physical  intelligence  of  man,  if  you  know  what 
I  mean.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  join  you.  Twelve- 
thirty,  did  you  say?" 

"It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  if  your  daughter 
would  also  grace  the  festal  board." 

"Ahem!  My  daughter  and  I  are — er — what  you 
might  say  'on  the  outs'  at  present.  I  dare  say  I 
was  a  trifle  crusty  with  her  this  morning.  She  was 
a  bit  inconsiderate,  too,  I  may  add.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  she  told  me  to  go  and  soak  my  head."  Mr. 
Rushcroft  actually  blushed  as  he  said  it.  "I  don't 
know  where  the  devil  she  learned  such  language,  un 
less  she's  been  overhearing  the  disrespectful  remarks 
that  some  of  these  confounded  opera  house  managers 
make  when  I  try  to  argue  with  them  about —  But 
never  mind!  She's  a  splendid  creature,  isn't  she? 
She  has  it  born  in  her  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  ac 
tresses  in " 

"I  think  it  is  too  bad  that  she  has  to  go  about  in 
the  gown  she  wears,  Mr.  Rushcroft,"  said  Barnes. 
"She's  much  too  splendid  for  that.  I  have  a  propo- 


88  GREEN  FANCY 

sition  I'd  like  to  make  to  you  later  on.  I  cannot 
make  it,  however,  "without  consulting  Miss  Thack 
eray's  feelings." 

"My  dear  fellow!"  beamed  Rushcroft,  seizing  the 
other's  hand.  "One  frequently  reads  in  books  about 
it  coining  like  this,  at  first  sight,  but,  damme,  I 
never  dreamed  that  it  ever  really  happened.  Count 
on  me !  She  ought  to  leave  the  stage,  the  dear  child. 
No  more  fitted  to  it  than  an  Easter  lily.  Her  place 
is  in  the  home,  the " 

"Good  Lord,  I'm  not  thinking  of "  And 

Barnes,  aghast,  stopped  before  blurting  out  the 
words  that  leaped  to  his  lips.  "I  mean  to  say,  this 
is  a  proposition  that  may  also  affect  your  excellent 
companions,  Bacon  and  Dillingford,  as  well  as  your 
selves." 

"Abominations  !"  snorted  Rushcroft.  "I  fired  both 
of  them  this  morning.  They  are  no  longer  connected 
with  my  company.  I  won't  have  'em  around.  What's 
more,  they  can't  act  and  never  will.  The  best  bit  of 
acting  that  Bacon  ever  did  in  his  life  was  when  he 
told  me  to  go  to  hell  a  little  while  ago.  I  say  'act 
ing,'  mind  you,  because  the  wretch  couldn't  have 
been  in  earnest,  and  yet  he  gave  the  most  convincing 
performance  of  his  life.  If  I'd  ever  dreamed  that 
he  had  it  in  him  to  do  it  so  well,  I'd  have  had  the  line 
in  every  play  we've  done  since  he  joined  us,  author 
or  no  author." 

At  twelve-thirty  sharp,  Barnes  came  down  from 
his  room  freshly  shaved  and  brushed,  to  find  not 
only  Mr.  Rushcroft  and  Miss  Thackeray  awaiting 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME     89 

him  in  the  office,  but  the  Messrs.  Dillingford  and 
Bacon  as  well.  Putnam  Jones,  gloomy  and  preoc 
cupied  behind  the  counter,  allowed  his  eyes  to 
brighten  a  little  as  the  latest  guest  of  the  house 
approached  the  group. 

"I've  given  all  of  'em  an  hour  or  two  off,"  he  said 
genially.  "Do  what  you  like  to  'em." 

Rushcroft  expanded.  "My  good  man,  what  the 
devil  do  you  mean  by  a  remark  like  that?  Remem 
ber " 

"Never  mind,  dad,"  said  Miss  Thackeray,  lifting 
her  chin  haughtily.  "Forgive  us  our  trespassers 
as  we  forgive  our  trespasses.  And  remember,  also, 
that  poor,  dear  Mr.  Jones  is  all  out  of  sorts  to 
day.  He  is  all  keyed  up  over  the  notoriety  his  house 
is  going  to  achieve  before  the  government  gets 
through  annoying  him." 

"See  here,  Miss,"  began  Mr.  Jones,  threateningly, 
and  then,  overcome  by  his  Yankee  shrewdness, 
stopped  as  suddenly  as  he  started.  "Go  on  in  and 
have  your  dinner.  Don't  mind  me.  I  am  out  of 
sorts."  He  was  smart  enough  to  realise  that  it  was 
wiser  to  have  the  good  rather  than  the  ill-will  of 
these  people.  He  dreaded  the  inquiry  that  was  im 
minent. 

"That's  better,"  mumbled  Mr.  Rushcroft,  partial 
ly  mollified.  "I  took  the  liberty,  old  fellow,"  he 
went  on,  addressing  Barnes,  "of  asking  my  excellent 
co-workers  to  join  us  in  our  repast.  In  all  my  ca 
reer  I  have  not  known  more  capable,  intelligent  play 
ers  than  these " 


90  GREEN  FANCY 

"Delighted  to  have  you  with  us,  gentlemen,"  said 
Barnes  affably.  "In  fact,  I  was  going  to  ask  Mr. 
Rushcroft  if  he  had  the  slightest  objection  to  includ 
ing  you " 

"Oh,  the  row's  all  over,"  broke  in  Mr.  Dilling- 
ford  magnanimously.  "It  didn't  amount  to  any 
thing.  I'm  sure  if  Mr.  Rushcroft  doesn't  object  to 
us,  we  don't  object  to  him." 

"Peace  reigns  throughout  the  land,"  said  Mr. 
Bacon,  in  his  deepest  bass.  "Precede  us,  my  dear 
Miss  Thackeray." 

The  sole  topic  of  conversation  for  the  first  half 
hour  was  the  mysterious  slaying  of  their  fellow  lodg 
ers.  Mr.  Rushcroft  complained  bitterly  of  the  out 
rageous,  high-handed  action  of  the  coroner  and 
sheriff  in  imposing  upon  him  and  his  company  the 
same  restrictions  that  had  been  applied  to  Barnes. 
They  were  not  to  leave  the  county  until  the  authori 
ties  gave  the  word.  One  would  have  thought,  to 
hear  the  star's  indignant  lamentations,  that  he  and 
his  party  were  in  a  position  to  depart  when  they 
pleased.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  imagine  that 
he  was  not  actually  rolling  in  money  instead  of  be 
ing  absolutely  penniless. 

"What  were  these  confounded  rascals  to  me?"  he 
demanded,  scowling  at  Miss  Tilly  as  if  she  were 
solely  to  blame  for  his  misfortune.  "Why  should  I 
be  held  up  in  this  God-forsaken  place  because  a  cou 
ple  of  scoundrels  got  their  just  deserts?  Why,  I 
repeat?  I'd " 

"I — I'm  sure  I — I  don't  know,"  stammered  Miss 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME    .91 

Tilly,  wetting  her  dry  lips  with  her  tongue  in  an  at 
tempt  to  be  lucid. 

"What?"  exploded  Mr.  Rushcroft,  somewhat 
taken  aback  by  the  retort  from  an  unexpected  quar 
ter.  "Upon  my  soul,  I— I—  What?" 

"He  won't  bite,  Miss  Tilly,"  said  Miss  Thackeray 
soothingly. 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Miss  Tilly,  putting  her  hand 
over  her  mouth. 

Barnes  had  been  immersed  in  his  own  thoughts 
for  some  time.  A  slight  frown,  as  of  reflection,  dark 
ened  his  eyes.  Suddenly, — perhaps  impolitely, — he 
interrupted  Mr.  Rushcroft's  flow  of  eloquence. 

"Have  you  any  objection,  Mr.  Rushcroft,  to  a 
more  or  less  personal  question  concerning  your  own 
private — er — misfortunes?"  he  asked,  leaning  for 
ward. 

For  a  moment  one  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop. 
Mr.  Rushcroft  evidently  held  his  breath.  There 
could  be  no  mistake  about  that. 

"I  don't  mean  to  be  offensive,"  Barnes  made  haste 
to  add. 

"My  misfortunes  are  not  private,"  said  Mr.  Rush 
croft,  with  dignity.  "They  are  decidedly  public. 
Ask  all  the  questions  you  please,  my  dear  fellow." 

"Well,  it's  rather  delicate,  but  would  you  mind 
telling  me  just  how  much  you  were  stuck  up  for  by 
the — er — was  it  a  writ  of  attachment?" 

"It  was,"  said  the  star.  "A  writ  of  inquisition, 
you  might  as  well  substitute.  The  act  of  a  polluted, 
impecunious,  parsimonious, — what  shall  I  say? 


92  GREEN  FANCY 

Well,  I  will  be  as  simple  as  possible:  hotel  keeper. 
In  other  words,  a  damnation  blighter,  sir.  Ninety- 
seven  dollars  and  forty  cents.  For  that  pitiful 
amount  he  subjected  me  to " 

"Well,  that  isn't  so  bad,"  said  Barnes,  vastly  re 
lieved.  "It  would  require  that  amount  to  square 
everything  and  release  your  personal  effects?" 

"It  would  release  the  whole  blooming  production," 
put  in  Mr.  Dillingford,  with  unction.  "Including  my 
dress  suit  and  a  top  hat,  to  say  nothing  of  a  change 
of  linen  and " 

"Two  wood  exteriors  and  a  parlor  set,  make-up 

boxes,  wardrobe  trunks,  a  slide  trombone  and " 

mused  Mr.  Bacon,  and  would  have  gone  on  but  for 
Barnes'  interruption. 

He  was  covertly  watching  Miss  Thackeray's  half- 
averted  face  as  he  ventured  upon  the  proposition 
he  had  decided  to  put  before  them.  She  was  staring 
out  of  the  window,  and  there  was  a  strained,  almost 
harassed  expression  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
The  glimpse  he  had  of  her  dark  eyes  revealed  some 
thing  sullen,  rebellious  in  them.  She  had  taken  no 
part  in  the  conversation  for  some  time. 

"I  am  prepared  and  willing  to  advance  this 
amount,  Mr.  Rushcroft,  and  to  take  your  personal 
note  as  security." 

Rushcroft  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  stuck  his 
thumbs  in  the  arm  holes  of  his  vest.  He  displayed 
no  undue  elation.  Instead  he  affected  profound  cal 
culation.  His  daughter  shot  a  swift,  searching  look 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME     93 

at  the  would-be  Samaritan.  There  was  a  heightened 
colour  in  her  cheeks. 

"Ahem,"  said  Rushcroft,  squinting  at  the  ceiling 
beams. 

"Moreover,  I  shall  be  happy  to  increase  the 
amount  of  the  loan  sufficiently  to  cover  your  return 
at  once  to  New  York,  if  you  so  desire, — by  train." 
Barnes  smiled  as  he  added  the  last  two  words. 

"Extremely  kind  of  you,  my  dear  Barnes,"  said 
the  actor,  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair. 
"Your  faith  in  me  is  most  gratifying.  I — I  really 
don't  know  what  to  say  to  you,  sir." 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Barnes,  you  ought  to  know  that 
you  may  be  a  long  time  in  getting  your  money  back," 
said  his  daughter  levelly.  "We  are  poor  pay." 

"My  dear  child,"  began  Mr.  Rushcroft,  amazed. 

"I  shall  permit  your  father  himself  to  specify  the 
number  of  months  or  years  to  be  written  in  the  body 
of  the  note,"  said  Barnes. 

"And  if  he  never  pays,  what  then?"  said  she. 

"I  shall  not  trouble  him  with  demands  for  the 
money,"  said  Barnes. 

"May  I  inquire  just  how  you  expect  to  profit  by 
this  transaction,  Mr.  Barnes?"  she  asked  steadily. 

He  started,  suddenly  catching  her  meaning. 

"My  dear  Miss  Thackeray,"  he  exclaimed,  "this 
transaction  is  solely  between  your  father  and  me.  I 
shall  have  no  other  claim  to  press." 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  that,"  she  said. 

"You  may  believe  it,"  he  assured  her. 

"It  isn't  the  usual  course,"  she  said  quietly,  and 


94  GREEN  FANCY 

her  face  brightened.  "You  are  not  like  most  men, 
Mr.  Barnes." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  Rushcroft,  "you  must  leave 
this  matter  to  our  friend  and  me.  I  fancy  I  know 
an  honest  man  when  I  see  him.  My  dear  fellow,  for 
tune  is  but  temporarily  frowning  upon  me.  In  a  few 
weeks  I  shall  be  on  my  feet  again,  zipping  along  on 
the  crest  of  the  wave.  I  dare  say  I  can  return  the 
money  to  you  in  a  month  or  six  weeks.  If " 

"Oh,  father!"  cried  Miss  Thackeray. 

"We'll  make  it  six  months,  and  I'll  pay  any  rate 
of  interest  you  desire.  Six  per  cent,  eight  per  cent, 
ten  per " 

"Six  per  cent,  sir,  and  we  will  make  it  a  year  from 
date." 

"Agreed.  And  now,  Miss  Tilly,  will  you  ask  the 
barmaid, — who  happens  t.o  be  masculine, — to  step 
in  here  and  take  the  orders?  We  would  drink  to 
Dame  Fortune,  who  has  a  smile  that  defies  all  forms 
of  adversity.  Out  of  the  clouds  falls  a  slice  of  sil 
ver  lining.  It  alights  in  my  trembling  palm.  I — I 
— Damme,  sir,  you  are  a  nobleman !  In  behalf  of  my 
daughter,  my  company  and  the — Heaven  forfend! 
I  was  about  to  add  the  accursed  management! — I 
thank  you.  Get  up  and  dance  for  us,  Dilly!  We 
shall  be  in  New  York  to-morrow !" 

"You  forget  the  dictatorial  sheriff,  Mr.  Rush- 
croft,"  said  Barnes. 

"The  varlet!"  barked  Mr.  Rushcroft. 

It  was  arranged  that  Dillingford  and  Bacon  were 
to  go  to  Hornville  in  a  hired  motor  that  afternoon, 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME     95 

secure  the  judgment,  pay  the  costs,  and  attend  to 
the  removal  of  the  personal  belongings  of  the  strand 
ed  quartette  from  the  hotel  to  Hart's  Tavern.  The 
younger  actors  stoutly  refused  to  accept  Barnes' 
offer  to  pay  their  board  while  at  the  Tavern.  That, 
they  declared,  would  be  charity,  and  they  preferred 
his  friendship  and  his  respect  to  anything  of  that 
sort.  Miss  Thackeray,  however,  was  to  be  immedi 
ately  relieved  of  her  position  as  chambermaid.  She 
was  to  become  a  paying  guest. 

"I'll  be  glad  to  have  my  street  togs,  such  as  they 
are,"  said  she,  rosily.  "I  dare  say  you  are  sick  of 
seeing  me  in  this  rig,  Mr.  Barnes.  That's  probably 
why  you  opened  your  heart  and  purse." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  he  gaily.  "As  I  presume  I 
shall  have  to  remain  here  for  some  time,  I  deem  it 
my  right  to  improve  the  service  as  much  as  possible. 
You  are  a  very  incompetent  chambermaid,  Miss 
Thackeray." 

Rushcroft  took  the  whole  affair  with  the  most 
noteworthy  complacency.  He  seemed  to  regard  it 
as  his  due,  or  more  properly  speaking  as  if  he  were 
doing  Barnes  a  great  favour  in  allowing  him  to 
lend  money  to  a  person  of  his  importance. 

"A  thought  has  just  come  to  me,  my  dear  fellow," 
he  remarked,  as  they  arose  from  table.  "With  the 
proper  kind  of  backing  I  could  put  over  one  of  the 
most  stupendous  things  the  theatre  has  known  in 
fifty  years.  I  don't  mind  saying  to  you, — although 
it's  rather  sub  rosa — that  I  have  written  a  play. 
A  four  act  drama  that  will  pack  the  biggest  house 


96  GREEN  FANCY 

on  Broadway  to  the  roof  for  as  many  months  as 
we'd  care  to  stay.  Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  talk 
it  over  with  you  a  little  later  on.  You  will  be  inter 
ested,  I'm  sure.  I  actually  shudder  sometimes  when 
I  think  of  the  filthy  greenbacks  I'll  have  to  carry 
around  on  my  person  if  the  piece  ever  gets  into  New 
York.  Yes,  yes,  I'll  be  glad  to  talk  it  over  with  you. 
Egad,  sir,  I'll  read  the  play  to  you.  I'll — What  ho, 
landlord!  When  my  luggage  arrives  this  evening 
will  you  be  good  enough  to  have  it  placed  in  the  room 
just  vacated  by  the  late  Mr.  Roon?  My  daughter 
will  have  the  room  adjoining,  sir.  By  the  way,  will 
you  have  your  best  automobile  sent  around  to  the 
door  as  quickly  as  possible?  A  couple  of  my  men 
are  going  to  Hornville — damned  spot! — to  fetch 
hither  my " 

"Just  a  minute,"  interrupted  Putnam  Jones, 
wholly  unimpressed.  "A  man  just  called  you  up  on 
the  'phone,  Mr.  Barnes.  I  told  him  you  was  enter 
taining  royalty  at  lunch  and  couldn't  be  disturbed. 
So  he  asked  me  to  have  you  call  him  up  as  soon  as 
you  revived.  His  words,  not  mine.  Call  up  Mr. 
O'Dowd  at  Green  Fancy.  Here's  the  number." 

The  mellow  voice  of  the  Irishman  soon  responded. 

"I  called  you  up  to  relieve  your  mind  regarding 
the  young  woman  who  came  last  night,"  he  said. 
"You  observe  that  I  say  'came.'  She's  quite  all 
right,  safe  and  sound,  and  no  cause  for  uneasiness. 
I  thought  you  meant  that  she  was  coming  here  as  a 
guest,  and  so  I  made  the  very  natural  mistake  of 
saying  she  hadn't  come  at  all,  at  all.  The  young 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME     97 

woman  in  question  is  Mrs.  Van  Dyke's  maid.  But 
bless  me  soul,  how  was  I  to  know  she  was  even  in 
existence,  much  less  expected  by  train  or  motor  or 
Shanks'  mare?  Well,  she's  here,  so  there's  the  end 
of  our  mystery.  We  sha'n't  have  to  follow  your  gay 
plan  of  searching  the  wilderness  for  beauty  in  dis 
tress.  Our  romance  is  spoiled,  and  I  am  sorry  to 
say  it  to  you.  You  were  so  full  of  it  this  morning 
that  you  had  me  all  stirred  up  meself." 

Barnes  was  slow  in  replying.  He  was  doubting 
his  own  ears.  It  was  not  conceivable  that  an  ordi 
nary — or  even  an  extraordinary — lady's  maid  could 
have  possessed  the  exquisite  voice  and  manner  of  his 
chance  acquaintance  of  the  day  before,  or  the  temer 
ity  to  order  that  sour-faced  chauffeur  about  as  if — 
The  chauffeur! 

"But  I  thought  you  said  that  Mr.  Curtis's  chauf 
feur  was  moon-faced  and " 

"He  is,  bedad,"  broke  in  Mr.  O'Dowd,  chuckling. 
"That's  what  deceived  me  entirely,  and  no  wonder. 
It  wasn't  Peter  at  all,  but  the  rapscallion  washer 
who  went  after  her.  He  was  instructed  to  tell  Peter 
to  meet  the  four  o'clock  train,  and  the  blockhead 
forgot  to  give  the  order.  Bedad,  what  does  he  do 
but  sneak  out  after  her  himself,  scared  out  of  his 
boots  for  fear  of  what  he  was  to  get  from  Peter.  I 
had  the  whole  story  from  Mrs.  Van  Dyke." 

"Well,  I'm  tremendously  relieved,"  said  Barnes 
slowly. 

"And  so  am  I,"  said  O'Dowd,  with  conviction.  "I 
have  seen  the  heroine  of  our  busted  romance.  She's 


98  GREEN  FANCY 

a  good-looking  girl.  I'm  not  surprised  that  she  kept 
her  veil  down.  If  you  were  to  leave  it  to  me,  though, 
I'd  say  that  it's  a  sin  to  carry  discretion  so  far  as 
all  that.  I  thought  I'd  take  the  liberty  of  calling 
you  up  as  soon  as  I  had  the  facts,  so  that  you 
wouldn't  go  forth  in  knightly  ardour —  You  see 
what  I  mean,  don't  you?"  His  rich  laugh  came  over 
the  wire. 

"Perfectly.  Thank  you  for  letting  me  know.  My 
mind  is  at  rest." 

"Will  you  be  staying  on  for  some  days  at  the 
Tavern?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Well,  I  shall  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  running 
over  to  see  you  in  a  day  or  so." 

"Do,"  said  Barnes.  "Good  by."  As  he  hung  up 
the  receiver  he  said  to  himself,  "You  are  a  most 
affable,  convincing  chap,  Mr.  O'Dowd,  but  I  don't 
believe  a  word  you  say.  That  woman  is  no  lady's 
maid,  and  you've  known  all  the  time  that  she  was 
there." 

At  four  o'clock  he  set  out  alone  for  a  tramp  up 
the  mountain  road  in  which  the  two  men  had  been 
shot  down.  A  number  of  men  under  the  direction 
of  the  sheriff  were  scouring  the  lofty  timberland  for 
the  deadly  marksmen.  He  knew  it  would  turn  out 
to  be  as  futile  as  the  proverbial  effort  to  find  the 
needle  in  the  haystack. 

His  mind  was  quite  clear  on  the  subject.  Roon 
and  Paul  were  not  ordinary  robbers.  They  were,  no 
doubt,  honest  men.  He  would  have  said  that  they 
were  thieves  bent  on  burglarising  Green  Fancy  were 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME     99 

it  not  for  the  disclosures  of  Miss  Thackeray  and  the 
very  convincing  proof  that  they  were  not  shot  by 
the  same  man.  Detected  on  the  grounds  about  Green 
Fancy  by  a  watchman,  they  would  have  had  an  en 
counter  with  him  there  and  then.  Moreover,  they 
would  have  taken  an  active  part  in  the  play  of  fire 
arms.  Desperadoes  would  not  have  succumbed  so 
tamely. 

It  was  not  beyond  reason, — indeed,  it  was  quite 
probable, — that  they  were  trying  to  cross  the  bor 
der;  in  that  event,  their  real  operations  would  be 
confined  to  the  Canadian  side  of  the  line.  They 
were  unmistakably  foreigners.  That  fact,  in  itself, 
went  far  toward  establishing  in  his  mind  the  convic 
tion  that  they  were  not  attempting  to  intercept  any 
one  coming  from  the  other  side.  Equally  as  strong 
was  the  belief  that  the  Canadian  authorities  would 
not  have  entered  upon  United  States  territory  for 
the  purpose  of  apprehending  these  suspects,  no  mat 
ter  how  thoroughly  the  movements  and  motives  of 
the  two  men  might  have  been  known  to  them. 

He  could  not  free  himself  of  the  suspicion  that 
Green  Fancy  possessed  the  key  to  the  situation. 
Roon  and  his  companion  could  not  have  had  the 
slightest  interest  in  his  movements  up  to  the  instant 
he  encountered  the  young  woman  at  the  cross-roads. 
It  was  ridiculous  to  even  consider  himself  an  object 
of  concern  to  these  men  who  had  been  haunting  the 
border  for  days  prior  to  his  appearance  on  the 
scene.  They  were  interested  only  in  the  advent  of 
the  woman,  and  as  her  destination  confessedly  was 
Green  Fancy,  what  could  be  more  natural  than  the 


100  GREEN  FANCY 

conclusion  that  their  plans,  evil  or  otherwise,  de 
pended  entirely  upon  her  arrival  at  the  strange 
house  on  the  mountainside?  They  had  been  await 
ing  her  appearance  for  days.  The  instant  it  be 
came  known  to  them  that  she  was  installed  at  Green 
Fancy,  their  plans  went  forward  with  a  swiftness 
that  bespoke  complete  understanding. 

His  busy  brain  suddenly  suffered  the  shock  of  a 
distinct  conclusion.  So  startling  was  the  thought 
that  he  stopped  abruptly  in  his  walk  and  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  dismay.  Was  she  a  fellow-con 
spirator?  Was  she  the  inside  worker  at  Green 
Fancy  in  a  well-laid  plan  to  rifle  the  place?  She 
too  was  unmistakably  a  foreigner. 

Could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  the  confederate 
of  these  painstaking  agents  who  lurked  with  sinister 
patience  outside  the  very  gates  of  the  place  called 
Green  Fancy? 

In  support  of  this  theory  was  the  supposition  that 
O'Dowd  may  have  been  perfectly  sincere  in  his  dec 
larations  over  the  telephone.  Opposed  to  it,  how 
ever,  was  the  absolute  certainty  that  Roon  and  Paul 
were  waylaid  and  killed  at  widely  separated  points, 
and  not  while  actively  employed  in  raiding  the  house. 
That  was  the  rock  over  which  all  of  his  theories  stum 
bled. 

His  ramble  carried  him  far  beyond  the  spot  where 
Roon's  body  was  found  and  where  young  Conley  had 
come  upon  the  tethered  horses.  His  eager,  curious 
gaze  swept  the  forest  to  the  left  of  the  road  in 
search  of  Green  Fancy.  Overcome  by  a  rash,  daring 
impulse,  he  climbed  over  the  stake  and  rider  fence 


CHARITY  BEGINS  FAR  FROM  HOME  101 

and  sauntered  among  the  big  trees  which  so  far  had 
obscured  the  house  from  view.  He  had  looked  in 
vain  for  the  lane  or  avenue  leading  from  the  road 
up  to  Mr.  Curtis's  house.  He  could  not  have  passed 
it  in  his  stroll,  of  that  he  was  sure,  and  yet  he  re 
membered  distinctly  seeing  O'Dowd  and  De  Soto 
turn  their  horses  into  the  forest  at  a  point  far  back 
of  the  place  where  he  now  entered  the  grounds. 

The  trees  grew  very  thickly  on  the  slope,  and  they 
were  unusually  large.  Virgin  timber,  he  decided,  on 
which  the  woodman's  axe  had  made  no  inroads. 
The  foliage  was  dense.  Tree  tops  seemed  to  inter 
mingle  in  one  vast  canopy  through  which  the  sun  but 
rarely  penetrated.  The  bright  green  of  the  grass, 
the  sponginess  of  the  soil,  the  presence  of  great 
stretches  of  ferns  and  beds  of  moss  told  of  almost 
perpetual  moisture.  Strangely  enough  there  was  no 
suggestion  of  dankness  in  these  shadowy  glades,  rich 
with  the  fulness  of  early  Spring. 

He  progressed  deeper  into  the  wood.  At  the  end 
of  what  must  have  been  a  mile,  he  halted.  There  was 
no  sign  of  habitation,  no  indication  that  man  had 
ever  penetrated  so  far  into  the  forest.  As  he  was  on 
the  point  of  retracing  his  steps  toward  the  road,  his 
gaze  fell  upon  a  huge  moss-covered  rock  less  than  a 
hundred  yards  away.  He  stared,  and  gradually  it 
began  to  take  on  angles  and  planes  and  recesses  of 
the  most  astounding  symmetry.  Under  his  widening 
gaze  it  was  transformed  into  a  substantial  object  of 
cubes  and  gables  and — yes,  windows. 

He  was  looking  upon  the  strange  home  of  the 
even  stranger  Mr.  Curtis :  Green  Fancy. 


102  GREEN  FANCY 

Now  he  understood  why  It  wag  called  Green  Fancy. 
Its-  surroundings  were  no  greener  than  itself;  it 
seemed  to  melt  into  the  foliage,  to  become  a  part  of 
the  natural  landscape.  For  a  long  time  he  stood 
stock-still,  studying  the  curious  structure.  Moun 
tain  ivy  literally  enveloped  it.  Exposed  sections  of 
the  house  were  painted  green, — a  mottled  green  that 
seemed  to  indicate  flickering  sunbeams  against  an 
emerald  wall.  The  doors  were  green;  the  leafy 
porches  and  their  columns,  the  chimney  pots,  the 
window  hangings, — all  were  the  colour  of  the  un 
changing  forest.  And  it  was  a  place  of  huge  dimen 
sions,  low  and  long  and  rambling.  It  seemed  to  have 
been  forcibly  jammed  into  the  steep  slope  that  shot 
high  above  its  chimneys;  the  mountain  hung  over 
its  vine  clad  roof,  an  ominous  threat  of  oblivion. 

There  was  no  lawn,  no  indication  of  landscape 
gardening,  and  yet  Barnes  was  singularly  impressed 
by  the  arrangement  of  the  shrubbery  that  surround 
ed  the  place.  There  was  no  visible  approach  to  the 
house  through  the  thick,  unbroken  sea  of  green; 
everywhere  was  dense  underbrush,  standing  higher 
than  the  head  of  the  tallest  of  men, — clean,  bright 
bushes,  revealing  the  most  astonishing  uniformity  in 
size  and  character. 

"  'Gad,"  he  said  to  himself,  "what  manner  of  crank 
is  he  who  would  bury  himself  like  this?  Of  all  the 
crazy  ideas  I  ever " 

His  reflections  ended  there.  A  woman  crossed  his 
vision ;  a  woman  strolling  slowly  toward  him  through 
the  intricate  avenues  of  the  wildwood. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SPUN-GOLD   HAIE,    BLUE  EYES,   AND   VAEIOUS   ENCOUN- 

TEES 

SHE  was  quite  unaware  of  his  presence,  and  yet 
he  was  directly  in  her  path,  though  some  dis 
tance  away.  Her  head  was  bent;  her  mien 
was  thoughtful,  her  stride  slow  and  aimless. 

The  azure  blue  of  the  sweater  she  wore  presented 
an  inharmonious  note  on  the  field  of  velvety  green; 
— it  was  strangely  out  of  place,  he  thought, — almost 
an  offence  to  the  eye.  He  was  conscious  of  an  in 
stant  protest  against  this  profanation. 

She  was  slender,  graceful  and  evidently  quite  tall, 
although  she  seemed  a  pigmy  among  the  towering 
giants  that  attended  her  stroll.  Her  hands  were 
thrust  deep  into  the  pockets  of  a  white  duck  skirt. 
A  glance  revealed  white  shoes  and  trim  ankles  in 
blue.  She  wore  no  hat.  Her  hair  was  like  spun 
gold,  thick,  wavy  and  shimmering  in  the  subdued 
light. 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  looked  up.  He  had  a 
full  view  of  her  face  as  she  gazed  about  as  if  startled 
by  some  unexpected,  even  alarming,  sound.  For  a 
second  or  two  he  held  his  breath,  stunned  by  the 

103 


104  GREEN  FANCY 

amazing  loveliness  that  was  revealed  to  him.  Then 
she  discovered  him  standing  there. 

He  was  never  to  forget  the  expression  that  came 
into  her  eyes;  nor  had  he  ever  seen  eyes  so  blue. 
Alarm  gave  way  to  bewilderment  as  she  stared  at  the 
motionless  intruder  not  thirty  feet  away.  Then,  to 
his  utter  astonishment,  her  lips  parted  and  a  faint, 
wondering  smile  came  into  her  eyes.  His  heart 
leaped.  She  recognised  him! 

In  a  flash  he  realised  that  he  was  face  to  face  with 
the  stranger  of  the  day  before, — she  of  the  veil,  the 
alluring  voice,  the  unfaltering  spirits,  and  the 
weighty  handbag! 

He  took  two  or  three  impulsive  steps  forward, 
his  hand  going  to  his  hat, — and  then  halted.  Evi 
dently  his  senses  had  deceived  him.  There  was  no 
smile  in  her  eyes, — and  yet  he  could  have  sworn 
that  it  was  there  an  instant  before.  Instead,  there 
was  a  level  stare. 

"I  am  sorry  if  I  startled "  he  began. 

The  figure  of  a  man  appeared,  as  if  discharged 
bodily  from  some  magic  tree-trunk,  and  stood  di 
rectly  in  his  path:  A  tall,  rugged  man  in  overalls 
was  he,  who  held  a  spade  in  his  hand  and  eyed  him  in- 
imically.  Without  another  glance  in  his  direction, 
the  first  and  more  pleasing  vision  turned  on  her  heel 
and  continued  her  stroll,  sauntering  off  to  the  right, 
her  fair  head  once  more  bent  in  study,  her  back  elo 
quently  indifferent  to  the  gaze  that  followed  her. 

"Who  do  you  want  to  see?"  inquired  the  man  with 
the  spade. 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     105 

Before  Barnes  could  reply,  a  hearty  voice  accost 
ed  him  from  behind.  He  whirled  and  saw  O'Dowd 
approaching,  not  twenty  yards  away.  The  Irish 
man's  face  was  aglow  with  pleasure. 

"I  knew  I  couldn't  be  mistaken  in  the  shape  of 
you,"  he  cried,  advancing  with  outstretched  hand. 
"You've  got  the  breadth  of  a  dock-hand  in  your 
shoulders,  and  the  trimness  of  a  prize-fighter  in  your 
waist." 

They  shook  hands.  "I  fear  I  am  trespassing," 
said  Barnes.  His  glance  went  over  his  shoulder  as 
he  spoke.  The  man  with  the  spade  had  been  swal 
lowed  up  by  the  earth !  He  could  not  have  vanished 
more  quickly  in  any  other  way.  Off  among  the 
trees  there  were  intermittent  flashes  of  blue  and 
white. 

"I  am  quite  sure  you  are,"  said  O'Dowd  promptly, 
but  without  a  trace  of  unfriendliness  in  his  manner. 
"Bedad,  loving  him  as  I  do,  I  can't  help  saying  that 
Curtis  is  a  bally  old  crank.  Mind  ye,  I'd  say  it  to 
his  face, — I  often  do,  for  the  matter  of  that.  Of 
course,"  he  went  on  seriously,  "he  is  a  sick  man, 
poor  devil.  I  have  the  unholy  courage  to  call  him  a 
chronic  crank  every  once  in  awhile,  and  the  best 
thing  I  can  say  for  his  health  is  that  he  grins  when 
I  say  it  to  him.  You  see,  I've  known  him  for  a 
dozen  years  and  more,  and  he  likes  me,  though  God 
knows  why,  unless  it  may  be  that  I  once  did  his  son 
a  good  turn  in  London." 

"Sufficient  excuse  for  reparation,  I  should  say," 
smiled  Barnes. 


106  GREEN  FANCY 

"I  introduce^  the  la(l  to  me  only  sister,"  said 
O'Dowd,  "and  she  kept  him  happy  for  the  next  ten 
years.  No  doubt,  I  also  provided  Mr.  Curtis  with 
three  grandchildren  he  might  never  have  had  but  for 
my  graciousness.  As  for  that,  I  let  meself  in  for 
three  of  the  most  prodigious  nephews  a  man  ever 
had,  God  bless  them.  I'll  show  you  a  photograph 
of  them  if  ye'd  care  to  look."  He  opened  the  back 
of  his  watch  and  held  it  out  to  Barnes.  "Nine, 
seven  and  five,  and  all  of  them  as  bright  as  Glad 
stone." 

"They  must  be  stunning,"  said  Barnes  warmly. 

"They'll  make  a  beggar  of  me,  if  I  live  long 
enough,"  groaned  O'Dowd.  "It  beats  the  deuce  how 
childer  as  young  as  they  are  can  have  discovered 
what  a  doddering  fool  their  uncle  is.  Bedad,  the 
smallest  of  them  knows  it.  The  very  instant  I  pre 
tend  to  be  a  sensible,  provident,  middle-aged  gentle 
man  he  shows  me  up  most  shamelessly.  'Twas  only 
a  couple  of  months  ago  that  his  confounded  blan 
dishments  wiggled  a  sixty-five  dollar  fire  engine  out 
of  me.  He  squirted  water  all  over  the  drawing- 
room  furniture,  and  I  haven't  been  allowed  to  put 
foot  into  the  house  since.  My  own  darlin*  sister 
refused  to  look  at  me  for  a  week,  and  it  wouldn't 
surprise  me  in  the  least  if  she  changed  me  name 
sake's  title  to  something  less  enfuriating  than  Wil 
liam."  A  look  of  distress  came  into  his  merry  eyes. 
"By  Jove,  I'd  like  nothing  better  than  to  ask  you 
in  to  have  a  dish  of  tea, — it's  tea-time,  I'm  sure, — 
but  I'd  no  more  think  of  doing  it  than  I'd  consider 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     107 

cutting  off  me  head.  He  doesn't  like  strangers. 
He " 

"My  dear  fellow,  don't  distress  yourself,"  cried 
Barnes  heartily.  "There  isn't  the  least  reason  in 
the  world  why " 

"You  see,  the  poor  old  chap  asks  us  up  here  once 
or  twice  a  year, — that  is  to  say,  De  Soto  and  me, — 
to  keep  his  sister  from  filling  the  house  up  with  men 
he  can't  endure.  So  long  as  we  occupy  the  only 
available  rooms,  he  argues,  she  can't  stuff  them  full 
of  objectionables.  Twice  a  year  she  comes  for  a 
month,  in  the  late  fall  and  early  spring.  He's  very 
fond  of  her,  and  she  stands  by  him  like  a  major." 

"Why  does  he  continue  to  live  in  this  out-of-the- 
world  spot,  Mr.  O'Dowd?  He  is  an  old  man,  I 
take  it,  and  ill." 

"You  wouldn't  be  wondering  if  you  knew  the 
man,"  said  O'Dowd.  "He  is  a  scholar,  a  dreamer,  a 
sufferer.  He  doesn't  believe  in  doctors.  He  says 
they're  all  rascals.  They'd  keep  him  alive  just  for 
the  sake  of  what  they  could  get  out  of  him.  So  he's 
up  here  to  die  in  peace,  when  his  time  comes,  and  he 
hopes  it  will  come  soon.  He  doesn't  want  it  pro 
longed  by  a  grasping,  greedy  doctor  man.  It's  his 
kidneys,  you  know.  He's  not  a  very  old  man  at  that. 
Not  more  than  sixty-five." 

"He  certainly  has  a  fanciful  streak  in  him,  build 
ing  a  place  like  that,"  said  Barnes,  looking  not  at 
the  house  but  into  the  thicket  above.  There  was  no 
sign  of  the  blue  and  white  and  the  spun  gold  that 
still  defied  exclusion  from  his  mind's  eye.  He  had 


108  GREEN  FANCY 

not  recovered  from  the  thrall  into  which  the  vision 
of  loveliness  plunged  him.  He  was  still  a  trifle  dazed 
and  distraught. 

"Right  you  are,"  agreed  O'Dowd;  "the  queerest 
streak  in  the  world.  It's  his  notion  of  simplicity. 
I  wish  you  could  see  the  inside  of  the  place.  You'd 
wonder  to  what  exalted  heights  his  ideas  of  magnifi 
cence  would  carry  him  if  he  calls  this  simplicity. 
He  loves  it  all,  he  dotes  on  it.  It's  the  only  joy  he 
knows,  this  bewildering  creation  of  his.  For  nearly 
three  years  he  has  not  been  more  than  a  stone's 
throw  from  the  walls  of  that  house.  I  doubt  if  he's 
been  as  far  as  the  spot  where  we're  standing  now." 

"Green  Fancy.  Is  that  the  name  he  gave  the  place 
or  does  it  spring  from 

"  'Twas  christened  by  me  own  sister,  Mr.  Barnes, 
the  first  time  she  was  here,  two  years  ago.  I'll  walk 
with  you  to  the  fence  beyond  if  you've  no  objec 
tions,"  said  O'Dowd,  genially,  and  linked  his  arm 
through  that  of  Barnes. 

The  latter  was  at  once  subtly  aware  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  being  deliberately  conducted  from  the 
grounds.  Moreover,  he  was  now  convinced  that 
O'Dowd  had  been  close  upon  his  heels  from  the  in 
stant  he  entered  them.  There  was  something  un 
canny  in  the  feeling  that  possessed  him.  Such  espi 
onage  as  this  signified  something  deep  and  impera 
tive  in  the  presence  not  only  of  O'Dowd  but  the  Jack- 
in-the-box  gardener  a  few  minutes  earlier.  He  had 
the  grim  suspicion  that  he  would  later  on  encounter 
the  spectacled  De  Soto. 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     109 

His  mind  was  still  full  of  the  lovely  stranger  about 
whom  O'Dowd  had  so  manifestly  lied  over  the  tele 
phone. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  apologise  to  the  young  lady 
on  whom  I  blundered  a  few  moments  ago,  Mr. 
O'Dowd.  She  must  have  been  startled.  Pray  con 
vey  to  her  my  solicitude  and  excuses." 

"Consider  it  done,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  Irish 
man.  "Our  most  charming  and  seductive  guest," 
he  went  on.  "Bedad,  of  the  two  of  you,  I'll  stake 
me  head  you  were  startled  the  most.  Coming  sud 
denly  upon  such  rare  loveliness  is  almost  equivalent 
to  being  struck  by  a  bolt  of  lightning.  It  did  some 
thing  like  that  to  me  when  I  saw  her  for  the  first 
time  a  couple  of  weeks  ago.  I  didn't  get  over  it  for 
the  better  part  of  a  day, — I  can't  say  that  I  really 
got  over  it  at  all.  More  than  one  painter  of  por 
traits  has  said  that  she  is  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  world.  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  portrait 
painters,  but  I'm  always  fair  to  the  lords  of  crea 
tion  when  their  opinions  coincide  with  mine.  May 
hap  you  have  heard  of  her.  She  is  Miss  Cameron 
of  New  Orleans,  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Van  Dyke.  We 
have  quite  an  enchanting  house-party,  Mr.  Barnes,  if 
you  consider  no  more  than  the  feminine  side  of  it. 
Unfortunate  creatures!  To  be  saddled  with  such 
ungainly  lummixes  as  De  Soto  and  me !  By  the  way, 
have  you  heard  when  the  coroner  is  to  hold  his  in 
quests?" 

"Nothing  definite.  He  may  wait  a  week,"  said 
Barnes. 


110  GREEN  FANCY 

"I  suppose  you'll  stick  around  until  it's  all  over," 
ventured  O'Dowd.  Barnes  thought  he  detected  a 
slight  harshness  in  his  voice. 

"I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind  to  stay  until  the 
mystery  is  entirely  cleared  up,"  he  said.  "The  case 
is  so  interesting  that  I  don't  want  to  miss  a  shred 
of  it." 

"I  don't  blame  .ye,"  said  O'Dowd  heartily.  "I'd 
like  nothing  better  meself  than  to  mix  up  in  it,  but, 
Lord  love  ye,  if  I  turned  detective  I'd  also  be  turned 
out  of  the  spare  bed-room  beyond,  and  sped  on  me 
way  with  curses.  Well,  here  we  are.  The  next  time 
you  plan  to  pay  us  a  visit,  telephone  in  advance.  I 
may  be  able  to  persuade  my  host  that  you're  a  de 
cent,  law-abiding,  educated  gentleman,  and  he'll  con 
sent  to  receive  you  at  Green  Fancy.  Good  day  to 
ye,"  and  he  shook  hands  with  the  departing  tres 
passer. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the  spot  where  he  parted 
from  O'Dowd,  Barnes  caught  a  glimpse  of  De  Soto 
sauntering  among  the  trees.  He  smiled  to  himself. 
It  was  just  what  he  had  expected. 

"Takin'  a  walk?"  was  the  landlord's  greeting  as 
he  mounted  the  tavern  steps  at  dusk.  Putnam 
Jones's  gaunt  figure  had  been  discernible  for  some 
time,  standing  motionless  at  the  top  of  the  steps. 

"Going  over  the  ground  of  last  night's  aft'air," 
responded  Barnes,  pausing.  "Any  word  from  the 
sheriff  and  his  party?" 

"Nope.  The  blamed  fools  are  still  up  there  turn- 
in'  over  all  the  loose  stones  they  c'n  find,"  said  Jones 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     111 

sarcastically.  "Did  you  get  a  glimpse  of  Green 
Fancy?" 

Barnes  nodded.  "I  strolled  a  little  distance  into 
the  woods,"  he  said  briefly. 

"I  wouldn't  do  it  again,"  said  Jones.  "Strangers 
ain't  welcome.  I  might  have  told  you  as  much  if  I'd 
thought  you  were  going  up  that  way.  Mr.  Curtis 
notified  me  a  long  while  ago  to  warn  my  guests  not  to 
set  foot  on  his  grounds,  under  penalty  of  the  law." 

"Well,  I  escaped  without  injury,"  laughed  Barnes. 
"No  one  took  a  shot  at  me." 

As  he  entered  the  door  he  was  acutely  aware  of 
an  intense  stare  levelled  at  him  from  behind  by  the 
landlord  of  Hart's  Tavern.  Half  way  up  the  stair 
way  he  stopped  short,  and  with  difficulty  repressed 
the  exclamation  that  rose  to  his  lips. 

He  had  recalled  a  significant  incident  of  the  night 
before.  Almost  immediately  after  the  departure  of 
Roon  and  Paul  from  the  Tavern,  Putnam  Jones  had 
made  his  way  to  the  telephone  behind  the  desk,  and 
had  called  for  a  number  in  a  loud,  brisk  voice,  but 
the  subsequent  conversation  was  carried  on  in  sub 
dued  tones,  attended  by  haste  and  occasional  fur 
tive  glances  in  the  direction  of  the  tap-room. 

Upon  reaching  his  room,  Barnes  permitted  the 
suppressed  emotion  to  escape  his  lips  in  the  shape 
of  a  soft  whistle,  which  if  it  could  have  been  trans 
lated  into  words  would  have  said:  "By  Gad,  why 
haven't  I  thought  of  it  before?  He  sent  out  the 
warning  that  Roon  and  Paul  were  on  the  way !  And 


112  GREEN  FANCY 

I'd  like  to  bet  my  last  dollar  that  some  one  at  Green 
Fancy  had  the  other  end  of  the  wire." 

Mr.  Rushcroft  stalked  majestically  into  his  room 
while  he  was  shaving,  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  knock  at  the  door,  and  in  his  most  impressive 
manner  announced  that  if  there  was  another  hostelry 
within  reasonable  distance  he  would  move  himself, 
his  luggage  and  his  entire  company  out  of  Putnam 
Jones's  incomprehensible  house. 

"Why,  sir,"  he  declared,  "the  man  is  not  only 
a  knave  but  a  fool.  He  flatly  declines  the  prodigious 
offer  I  have  made  for  the  corner  rooms  at  the  end 
of  the  corridor.  In  fact,  he  refuses  to  transfer  my 
daughter  and  me  from  our  present  quarters  into 
what  might  be  called  the  royal  suite  if  one  were  dis 
posed  to  be  facetious.  The  confounded  blockhead 
insists  on  seeing  the  colour  of  my  money  in  ad 
vance."  He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  deject 
edly.  "My  daughter,  perversity  personified,  takes 
the  extraordinary  stand  that  the  wretch  is  right. 
She  agrees  with  him.  She  has  even  gone  so  far  as 
to  say,  to  my  face,  that  beggars  cannot  be  choosers, 
although  I  must  give  her  credit  for  not  using  the 
expression  in  the  scoundrel's  presence.  'Pon  my 
soul,  Barnes,  I  have  never  been  so  sorely  tried  in 
all  my  life.  Emma, — I  should  say,  Mercedes, — de 
nounces  me  to  my  face.  She  says  I  am  a  wastrel,  a 
profligate, — (there  I  have  her,  however,  for  she 
failed  to  consult  the  dictionary  before  applying  the 
word  to  me), — an  ingrate,  and  a  lot  of  other  things 
I  fail  to  recall  in  my  dismay.  She  contends  that  I 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     113 

have  no  right  to  do  what  I  please  with  my  own 
money.  Indeed,  she  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  I 
haven't  any  money  at  all.  I  have  tried  to  explain  to 
her  the  very  simple  principles  upon  which  all  finan 
cial  transactions  are  based,  but  she  remains  as  ob 
tuse  as  Cleopatra's  Needle.  Her  ignorance  would 
be  pitiful  if  she  wasn't  so  damned  obstinate  about 
it.  And  to  cap  the  climax,  she  had  the  insolence  to 
ask  me  to  show  her  a  dollar  in  real  money.  By  gad, 
sir,  she's  as  unreasonable  as  Putnam  Jones  himself." 

Barnes  gallantly  came  to  the  daughter's  defence. 
He  was  more  than  pleased  by  the  father's  revela 
tions.  They  proved  her  to  be  possessed  of  fine  feel 
ings  and  a  genuine  sense  of  appreciation. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Rushcroft,  I  think  she 
is  quite  right,"  he  said  flatly.  "It  isn't  a  bad  idea 
to  practise  economy." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Rushcroft  peevishly,  "where 
would  I  be  now  in  my  profession  if  I  had  practised 
economy  at  the  expense  of  progress?" 

"I  don't  know,"  confessed  Barnes,  much  too 
promptly. 

"I  can  tell  you,  sir.  I  would  be  nowhere  at  all.  I 
would  not  be  the  possessor  of  a  name  that  is  known 
from  one  end  of  this  land  to  the  other,  a  name  that 
guarantees  to  the  public  the  most  elaborate  produc 
tions  known  to " 

"Pardon  me,"  interrupted  the  other;  "it  doesn't 
get  you  anywhere  with  Putnam  Jones,  and  that  is 
the  issue  at  present.  The  government  puts  the  por 
trait  of  George  Washington  on  one  of  its  green- 


114  GREEN  FANCY 

backs  but  his  face  and  name  wouldn't  be  worth  the 
tenth  of  a  penny  if  the  United  States  went  bank 
rupt.  As  it  is,  however,  if  you  were  to  go  downstairs 
and  proffer  one  of  those  bills  to  Putnam  Jones  he 
would  make  his  most  elaborate  bow  and  put  you  into 
the  best  room  in  the  house.  George  Washington  has 
backing  that  even  Mr.  Jones  cannot  despise.  So, 
you  see,  your  daughter  is  right.  Your  name  and 
face  is  yet  to  be  stamped  on  a  government  bank  note, 
Mr.  Rushcroft,  and  until  that  time  comes  you  are  no 
better  off  than  I  or  any  of  the  rest  of  the  unfortu 
nates  who,  being  still  alive,  have  to  eat  for  a  living." 

"You  speak  in  parables,"  said  Mr.  Rushcroft, 
arising.  "Am  I  to  assume  that  you  wish  to  with 
draw  your  offer  to  lend  me " 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Barnes.  "My  desire  to  stake 
you  to  the  comforts  and  dignity  your  station  de 
serves  remains  unchanged.  If  you  will  bear  with  me 
until  I  have  finished  shaving  I  will  go  with  you  to 
Mr.  Jones  and  show  him  the  colour  of  your  money." 

Mr.  Rushcroft  grinned  shamelessly.  "My  daugh 
ter  was  right  when  she  said  another  thing  to  me,"  he 
observed,  sitting  down  once  more. 

"She  appears  to  be  more  or  le-ss  infallible." 

"A  woman  in  a  million,"  said  the  star.  "She 
said  that  I  wouldn't  make  a  hit  with  you  if  I  at 
tempted  to  put  on  too  much  side.  I  perceive  that 
she  was  right, — as  usual." 

"Absolutely,"  said  Barnes,  with  decision. 

"So  I'll  cut  it  out,"  remarked  Rushcroft  quaintly. 
"I  will  be  everlastingly  grateful  to  you,  Mr.  Barnes, 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     115 

if  you'll  fix  things  up  with  Jones.  God  knows  when 
or  whether  I  can  ever  reimburse  you,  but  as  I  am 
not  really  a  dead-beat  the  time  will  certainly  come 
when  I  may  begin  paying  in  installments.  Do  we 
understand  each  other?" 

"We  do,"  said  Barnes,  and  started  downstairs 
with  him. 

Half  an  hour  later  Barnes  succeeded  in  striking 
a  bargain  with  Putnam  Jones.  He  got  the  two 
rooms  at  the  end  of  the  hall  at  half  price,  insisting 
that  it  was  customary  for  every  hotel  to  give  actors 
a  substantial  reduction  in  rates. 

"You  shall  be  treasurer  and  business-manager  in 
my  reorganized  company,"  said  Rushcroft.  "With 
your  acumen  and  my  eccentricity  united  in  a  com 
mon  cause  we  will  stagger  the  universe." 

Despite  his  rehabilitation  as  a  gentleman  of  means 
and  independence,  Mr.  Rushcroft  could  not  forego 
the  pleasure  of  staggering  a  small  section  of  the 
world  that  very  night.  He  was  giving  Hamlet's  ad 
dress  to  the  players  in  the  tap-room  when  Barnes 
came  downstairs  at  nine  o'clock.  Bacon  and  Dil- 
lingford  having  returned  earlier  in  the  evening  with 
the  trunks,  bags  and  other  portable  chattels  of  the 
defunct  "troupe,"  Mr.  Rushcroft  was  performing 
in  a  sadly  wrinkled  Norfolk  suit  of  grey  which  Dil- 
lingford  was  under  solemn  injunction  to  press  before 
breakfast  the  next  morning. 

"I  know  I  don't  have  to  do  it,"  said  the  star, 
catching  the  surprised  look  in  Barnes's  eye  and 
pausing  to  explain,  sotto  voce,  "but  I  hadn't  the 


116  GREEN  FANCY 

heart  to  refuse.  They're  eating  it  up,  my  dear  fel 
low.  Up  to  this  instant  they've  been  sitting  with 
their  mouths  wide  open  while  I  hurled  it,  word  after 
word,  into  their  very  vitals."  Whereupon  he  re 
sumed  the  sonorous  monologue,  glowering  balefully 
upon  his  transfixed  hearers. 

Barnes,  leaning  against  the  door- jamb,  listened 
with  an  amused  smile  on  his  lips.  His  gaze  swept  the 
rapt  faces  of  the  dozen  or  more  customers  seated 
at  the  tables,  and  he  found  himself  wondering  if  one 
of  these  men  was  the  father  of  the  little  girl  whose 
mother  had  described  Hart's  Tavern  as  a  "shindy." 
Was  it  only  yesterday  that  he  had  spoken  with  the 
barefoot  child?  An  age  seemed  to  have  passed  since 
that  brief  encounter. 

Rushcroft  ended  Hamlet's  speech  in  fine  style,  and 
almost  instantly  a  mild  voice  from  the  crowd  asked 
if  he  knew  "Casey  at  the  Bat."  Not  in  the  least 
distressed  by  this  woful  commentary,  Mr.  Rush- 
croft  cheerfully,  obligingly  tackled  the  tragic  fiz 
zle  of  the  immortal  Casey. 

A  small,  dark  man  who  sat  alone  at  a  table  in  the 
corner,  caught  Barnes's  eye  and  smiled  almost 
mournfully.  He  was  undoubtedly  a  stranger;  his 
action  was  meant  to  convey  to  Barnes  the  informa 
tion  that  he  too  was  from  a  distant  and  sophisticated 
community,  and  that  a  bond  of  sympathy  existed 
between  them. 

Putnam  Jones  spoke  suddenly  at  Barnes's  shoul 
der.  He  started  involuntarily.  The  man  was  begin- 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     117 

ning  to  get  on  his  nerves.  He  seemed  to  be  dogging 
his  footsteps  with  ceaseless  persistency. 

"That  feller  over  there  in  the  corner,"  said  Jones, 
softly,  "is  a  book-agent  from  your  town.  He  sold 
me  a  set  of  Dickens  when  he  was  here  last  time,  about 
six  weeks  ago.  A  year's  subscription  to  two  maga 
zines  throwed  in.  By  gosh,  these  book-agents  are 
slick  ones.  I  didn't  want  that  set  of  Dickens  any 
more'n  I  wanted  a  last  year's  bird's  nest.  The 
thing  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  he'll  talk  me  into  taking 
a  set  of  Scott  before  he  moves  on.  He's  got  me 
sweatin'  already." 

"He's  a  shrewd  looking  chap,"  commented  Barnes. 

"Says  he  won't  be  satisfied  till  he's  made  this  sec 
tion  of  the  country  the  most  cultured,  refined  spot 
in  the  United  States,"  said  Jones  dolefully.  "He 
brags  about  how  much  he  did  toward  makin*  Boston 
the  literary  centre  of  the  United  States,  him  and 
his  father  before  him.  Together,  he  says,  they  ac 
tually  elevated  Boston  from  the  bottomless  pit  of 

ignorance  and Excuse  me.  There  goes  the 

telephone.  Maybe  it's  news  from  the  sheriff." 

With  the  spasmodic  tinkling  of  the  telephone  bell, 
the  book-agent  arose  and  made  his  way  to  the  little 
office.  As  he  passed  Barnes,  he  winked  broadly,  and 
said,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth: 

"He'd  make  DeWolf  Hopper  look  sick,  wouldn't 
he?" 

Barnes  glanced  over  his  shoulder  a  moment  later 
and  saw  the  book-agent  studying  the  register.  The 
poise  of  his  sleek  head,  however,  suggested  a  listen- 


118  GREEN  FANCY 

ing  attitude.  Putnam  Jones,  not  four  feet  away, 
was  speaking  into  the  telephone  receiver.  As  the 
receiver  was  restored  to  its  hook,  Barnes  turned 
again.  Jones  and  the  book-agent  were  examining 
the  register,  their  heads  almost  meeting  from  oppo 
site  sides  of  the  desk. 

The  latter  straightened  up,  stretched  his  arms, 
yawned,  and  announced  in  a  loud  tone  that  he 
guessed  he'd  step  out  and  get  a  bit  of  fresh  air  be 
fore  turning  in. 

"Any  news?"  inquired  Barnes,  approaching  the 
desk  after  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  book- 
agent. 

"It  wasn't  the  sheriff,"  replied  Jones  shortly,  and 
immediately  resumed  his  interrupted  discourse  on 
books,  book-agents  and  the  reclamation  of  Boston. 
Ten  minutes  elapsed  before  the  landlord's  garrulity 
was  checked  by  the  sound  of  an  automobile  coming 
to  a  stop  in  front  of  the  house.  Barnes  turned 
expectantly  toward  the  door.  Almost  immediately 
the  car  started  up  again,  with  a  loud  shifting  of 
gears,  and  a  moment  later  the  door  opened  to  admit, 
not  a  fresh  arrival,  but  the  little  book-agent. 

"Party  trying  to  make  Hornville  to-night,"  he  an 
nounced  casually.  "Well,  good  night.  See  you  in 
the  morning." 

Barnes  was  not  in  a  position  to  doubt  the  fellow's 
word,  for  the  car  unmistakably  had  gone  on  toward 
Hornville.  He  waited  a  few  minutes  after  the  man 
disappeared  up  the  narrow  stairway,  and  then  pro 
ceeded  to  test  his  powers  of  divination.  He  was  as 


SPUN-GOLD  HAIR,  AND  BLUE  EYES     119 

sure  as  he  could  be  sure  of  anything  that  had  not 
actually  come  to  pass,  that  in  a  short  time  the  au 
tomobile  would  again  pass  the  tavern  but  this  time 
from  the  direction  of  Hornville. 

Lighting  a  cigarette,  he  strolled  outside.  He  had 
barely  time  to  take  a  position  at  the  darkened  end 
of  the  porch  before  the  sounds  of  an  approaching 
machine  came  to  his  ears.  A  second  or  two  later 
the  lights  swung  around  the  bend  in  the  road  a  quar 
ter  of  a  mile  above  Hart's  Tavern,  and  down  came 
the  car  at  a  high  rate  of  speed.  It  dashed  past  the 
tavern  with  a  great  roar  and  rattle  and  shot  off  into 
the  darkness  beyond.  As  it  rushed  through  the 
dim  circle  of  light  in  front  of  the  tavern,  Barnes 
succeeded  in  obtaining  a  brief  but  convincing  view 
of  the  car.  That  glance  was  enough,  however.  He 
would  have  been  willing  to  go  before  a  jury  and 
swear  that  it  was  the  same  car  that  had  deposited 
him  at  Hart's  Tavern  the  day  before. 

Having  guessed  correctly  in  the  one  instance,  he 
allowed  himself  another  and  even  bolder  guess:  the 
little  book-agent  had  either  received  a  message  from 
or  delivered  one  to  the  occupant  or  driver  of  the  car 
from  Green  Fancy. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  NOTE,  SOME  FANCIES,  AND  AN  EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST 
OF  FACTS 

MILLINGFORD  gave  him  a  lighted  candle  at 
the  desk  and  he  started  upstairs,  his  mind 
full  of  the  events  and  conjectures  of  the 
day.     Uppermost  in  his  thoughts  was  the  dazzling 
vision  of  the  afternoon,  and  the  fleeting  smile  that 
had  come  to  him  through  the  leafy  interstices.     As 
he  entered  the  room,  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  white  en 
velope  at  his  feet.     It  had  been  slipped  under  the 
door  since  he  left  the  room  an  hour  before. 

Terse  reminder  from  the  prudent  Mr.  Jones !  His 
bill  for  the  day!  He  picked  it  up,  glanced  at  the 
inscription,  and  at  once  altered  his  opinion.  His 
full  name  was  there  in  the  handwriting  of  a  woman. 
For  a  moment  he  was  puzzled;  then  he  thought  of 
Miss  Thackeray.  A  note  of  thanks,  no  doubt,  un 
pleasantly  fulsome!  Vaguely  annoyed,  he  ripped 
open  the  envelope  and  read: 

"In  case  I  do  not  have  the  opportunity  to  speak 
with  you  to-night,  this  is  to  let  you  know  that  the 
little  man  who  says  he  is  a  book-agent  was  in  your 
room  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  while  you  were 
120 


EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST  OF  FACTS     121 

away  this  afternoon.    You'd  better  see  if  anything 
is  missing. 

"M.  T." 

He  read  the  note  again,  and  then  held  it  over  the 
candle  flame.  Surprise  and  a  temporary  indigna 
tion  gave  way  before  the  thrill  of  exultation  as  the 
blazing  paper  fell  upon  the  hearth. 

"  'Gad,  it  grows  more  and  more  interesting,"  he 
mused,  and  chuckled  aloud.  "They're  not  losing  a 
minute's  time  in  finding  out  all  they  can  about  me, 
that's  certain.  Thanks,  my  dear  Miss  Thackeray. 
You  are  undoubtedly  deceived  but  I  am  not.  This 
chap  may  be  a  detective  but  he  isn't  looking  for  evi 
dence  to  connect  me  with  last  night's  murders.  Not 
a  bit  of  it.  He  is  trying  to  find  out  whether  I  ought 
to  be  shot  the  next  time  I  go  snooping  around  Green 
Fancy.  I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  know  what  he  put 
into  the  report  he  sent  off  a  little  while  ago.  And 
I'd  give  a  good  deal  more  to  know  just  where  Mr. 
Jones  stands  in  this  business.  Selling  sets  of  Dick 
ens,  eh?  Book-agent  by  day,  secret  agent  by  night, 
— 'gad,  he  may  even  be  a  road-agent !" 

He  made  a  hasty  but  careful  examination  of  his 
effects.  There  was  not  the  slightest  evidence  that 
his  pack  had  been  opened  or  even  disturbed.  Natur 
ally  he  travelled  without  surplus  impedimenta;  he 
carried  the  lightest  outfit  possible.  There  were  a 
few  papers  containing  notes  and  memoranda ;  a  small 
camera  and  films;  a  blank  book  to  which  he  trans 
ferred  his  daily  experiences,  observations  and  im- 


122  GREEN  FANCY 

pressions ;  a  small  medicine  case ;  tobacco  and  cigar 
ettes;  a  flask  of  brandy;  copies  of  Galworthy's 
"Man  of  Property"  and  Hutchinson's  "Happy  War 
rior";  wearing  apparel,  and  a  revolver.  His  purse 
and  private  papers  rarely  were  off  his  person.  If 
the  little  book-agent  spent  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
in  the  room  he  managed  most  effectually  to  cover  up 
all  traces  of  his  visit. 

Barnes  did  not  go  to  sleep  until  long  after  mid 
night.  He  now  regarded  himself  as  definitely  com 
mitted  to  a  combination*  of  sinister  and  piquant  en 
terprises,  not  the  least  of  which  was  the  determina 
tion  to  find  out  all  there  was  to  know  about  the 
mysterious  young  woman  at  Green  Fancy. 

His  operations  along  any  line  of  endeavour  were 
bound  to  be  difficult,  perhaps  hazardous.  Every 
movement  that  he  made  would  be  observed  and  re 
ported;  his  every  step  followed.  He  could  hope  to 
disarm  suspicion  only  by  moving  with  the  utmost 
boldness  and  unconcern.  Success  rested  in  his  abil 
ity  to  convince  O'Dowd,  Jones  and  the  rest  of  them 
that  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  his  innocuous 
wanderings. 

His  interest  in  the  sensational  affair  that  had  dis 
turbed  his  first  night's  rest  at  Hart's  Tavern  must 
remain  paramount.  His  theories,  deductions  and 
suggestions  as  to  the  designs  and  identity  of  Roon 
and  Paul ;  the  stated  results  of  personal  and  no  doubt 
ludicrous  experiments;  sly  and  confidential  jabs  at 
the  incompetent  investigators,  uttered  behind  the 
hand  to  Putnam  Jones  and,  if  possible,  to  the  book- 


EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST  OF  FACTS     123 

agent; — a  quixotic  philanthropy  in  connection  with 
the  fortunes  of  Rushcroft  and  his  players;  all  these 
would  have  to  be  put  forward  in  the  scheme  to  dis 
pel  suspicion  at  Green  Fancy. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  ought  to  be  fur 
thering  the  ends  of  justice  by  disclosing  to  the  au 
thorities  his  secret  opinion  of  Putman  Jones,  the 
strange  behaviour  of  Roon  as  observed  by  Miss 
Thackeray,  and  his  own  adventure  with  the  lady  of 
the  cross-roads.  The  chance  that  Jones,  subjected 
to  third  degree  pressure,  might  break  down  and  re 
veal  all  that  he  knew  was  not  even  considered. 

Back  of  all  his  motives  was  the  spur  of  Romance : 
his  real  interest  was  centred  in  the  lovely  lady  of 
Green  Fancy. 

He  was  confident  that  O'Dowd's  system  of  espion 
age  would  quickly  absolve  him  of  all  interest  in  or 
connection  with  the  plans  of  Albert  Roon;  it  re 
mained  therefore  for  him  to  convince  the  Irishman 
that  he  had  no  notions  or  vagaries  inimical  to  the 
well-being  of  Green  Fancy  or  its  occupants.  With 
that  result  achieved,  he  need  have  no  fear  of  meet 
ing  the  fate  that  had  befallen  Roon  and  his  lieuten 
ant  ;  nothing  worse  could  happen  than  an  arrest  and 
fine  for  trespass. 

The  next  day  he,  with  other  lodgers  in  the  Tavern, 
was  put  through  an  examination  by  police  and 
county  officials  from  Saint  Elizabeth,  and  notified 
that,  while  he  was  not  under  suspicion  or  surveil 
lance,  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  remain  in  the 
"bailiwick"  until  detectives,  already  on  the  way,  were 


GREEN  FANCY 

satisfied  that  he  possessed  no  knowledge  that  would 
be  useful  to  them  in  clearing  up  what  had  now  as 
sumed  the  dignity  of  a  "national  problem." 

O'Dowd  rode  down  from  Green  Fancy  and  created 
quite  a  sensation  among  the  officials  by  announcing 
that  Mr.  Curtis  desired  them  to  feel  that  they  had 
a  perfect  right  to  extend  their  search  for  clues  to  all 
parts  of  his  estate,  and  that  he  was  deeply  interested 
in  the  outcome  of  their  investigations. 

"The  devils  may  have  laid  their  ambush  on  his 
property,"  said  O'Dowd,  "and  they  may  have  made 
their  escape  into  the  hills  back  of  his  place  without 
running  the  risk  of  tackling  the  highways.  Nothing, 
Mr.  Curtis  says,  should  stand  in  the  way  of  jus 
tice.  While  he  knows  that  you  have  a  legal  right  to 
enter  his  grounds,  and  even  his  house,  in  the  pursuit 
of  duty,  he  urges  me  to  make  it  clear  to  you  gentle 
men,  that  you  are  welcome  to  come  without  even  so 
much  as  a  demand  upon  him.  If  I  may  be  so  bold 
as  to  offer  my  services,  you  may  count  on  me  to  act 
as  guide  at  any  time  you  may  elect.  I  know  the  lay 
of  the  land  pretty  well,  and  what  I  don't  know  the 
gardeners  and  other  men  up  there  do.  You  are  to 
call  upon  all  of  us  if  necessary.  Mr.  Curtis,  as  you 
know,  is  an  invalid.  May  I  suggest,  therefore,  that 
you  conduct  your  examination  of  the  grounds  near 
his  home  with  as  little  commotion  as  possible?  Inci 
dentally,  I  may  inform  you,  but  one  person  at  Green 
Fancy  heard  the  shots.  That  person  was  Mr.  Cur 
tis  himself.  He  rang  for  his  attendant  and  in 
structed  him  to  send  some  one  out  to  find  out  what  it 


EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST  OF  FACTS     125 

was  all  about.  The  chauffeur  went  down  to  Con- 
ley's,  as  you  know.  If  you  consider  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  question  Mr.  Curtis  as  to  the  time  the 
shots  were  fired,  he  will  receive  you ;  but  I  think  you 
may  properly  establish  that  fact  by  young  Conley 
without  submitting  a  sick  man  to  the  excitement  and 
distress  of  a " 

The  sheriff  hastily  broke  in  with  the  assurance 
that  it  was  not  at  all  necessary  to  disturb  Mr.  Cur 
tis.  It  wasn't  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment.  He 
would,  however,  like  to  "run  over  the  ground  a  bit" 
that  very  afternoon,  if  it  was  agreeable  to  Mr. 
O'Dowd. 

It  being  quite  agreeable,  the  genial  Irishman  pro 
posed  that  his  friend,  Mr.  Barnes, — (here  he  be 
stowed  an  almost  imperceptible  wink  upon  the  New 
Yorker), — should  join  the  party.  He  could  vouch 
for  the  intelligence  and  discretion  of  the  gentleman. 

Barnes,  concealing  his  surprise,  expressed  himself 
as  happy  to  be  of  any  service.  He  glanced  at  Put 
nam  Jones  as  he  made  the  statement.  It  was  at 
once  borne  in  upon  him  that  the  landlord's  attitude 
toward  him  had  undergone  a  marked  change  in  the 
last  few  minutes.  The  furtive,  distrustful  look  was 
missing  from  his  eyes  and  in  its  place  was  a  friendly, 
approving  twinkle. 

O'Dowd  stayed  to  dinner.  (Dinner  was  served  in 
the  middle  of  the  day  at  Hart's  Tavern.)  He  made 
a  great  impression  upon  Lyndon  Rushcroft,  who, 
with  his  daughter,  joined  the  two  men.  Indeed,  the 
palavering  Irishman  extended  himself  in  the  effort  to 


126  GREEN  FANCY 

make  himself  agreeable.  He  was  vastly  interested  in 
the  stage,  he  declared.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had 
been  told  a  thousand  times  that  he  ought  to  go  on 
the  stage.  He  had  (decided  talent.  .  .  . 

"If  you  change  your  mind,"  said  Mr.  Rushcroft, 
"and  conclude  to  try  a  whirl  at  it,  just  let  me  know. 
I  can  find  a  place  for  you  in  my  company  at  any 
time.  If  there  isn't  a  vacancy,  we  can  always  write 
in  an  Irish  comedy  part." 

"But  I  never  wanted  to  be  a  comedian,"  said 
O'Dowd.  "I've  always  wanted  to  play  the  young 
hero, — the  fellow  who  gets  the  girl,  you  know."  He 
bestowed  a  gallant  smile  upon  Miss  Thackeray. 

"You  may  take  my  word  for  it,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Rushcroft  with  feeling,  "heroism,  and  nothing  less,  is 
necessary  to  the  man  who  has  to  play  opposite  most 
of  the  harridans  you,  in  your  ignorance,  speak  of 
as  girls."  And  he  launched  forth  upon  a  round  of 
soul-trying  experiences  with  -"leading-ladies." 

The  little  book-agent  came  in  while  they  were  at 
table.  He  sat  down  in  a  corner  of  the  dining-room 
and  busied  himself  with  his  subscription  lists  while 
waiting  for  the  meal  to  be  served.  He  was  still  por 
ing  over  them,  frowning  intently,  when  Barnes  and 
the  others  left  the  room. 

Barnes  walked  out  beside  Miss  Thackeray. 

"The  tailor-made  gown  is  an  improvement,"  he 
said  to  her. 

"Does  that  mean  that  I  look  more  like  a  good 
chambermaid  than  I  did  before?" 

"If  you  would  consider  it  a  compliment,  yes,"  he 


EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST  OF  FACTS 

replied,  smiling.  He  was  thinking  that  she  was  a 
very  pretty  girl,  after  all. 

"The  frock  usually  makes  the  woman,"  she  said 
slowly,  "but  not  always  the  lady." 

He  thought  of  that  remark  more  than  once  during 
the  course  of  an  afternoon  spent  in  the  woods  about 
Green  Fancy. 

O'Dowd  virtually  commanded  the  expedition.  It 
was  he  who  thought  of  everything.  First  of  all,  he 
led  the  party  to  the  corner  of  the  estate  nearest  the 
point  where  Paul  was  shot  from  his  horse.  Sitting 
in  his  own  saddle,  he  called  the  attention  of  the  other 
riders  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  most  significant  fact 
in  connection  with  the  killing  of  this  man. 

"From  what  I  hear,  the  man  Paul  was  shot  through 
the  lungs,  directly  from  in  front.  The  bullet  went 
straight  through  his  body.  He  was  riding  very 
rapidly  down  this  road.  When  he  came  to  a  point 
not  far  above  cross-roads,  he  was  fired  upon.  It  is 
safe  to  assume  that  he  was  looking  intently  ahead, 
trying  to  make  out  the  crossing.  He  was  not  shot 
from  the  side  of  the  road,  gentlemen,  but  from  the 
middle  of  it.  The  bullet  came  from  a  point  almost 
directly  in  front  of  him,  and  not  from  Mr.  Curtis's 
property  here  to  the  left,  or  Mr.  Conley's  on  the 
right.  Understand,  this  is  my  whimsey  only.  I  may 
be  entirely  wrong.  My  idea  is  that  the  man  who 
shot  him  waited  here  at  the  cross-roads  to  head  off 
either  or  both  of  them  in  case  they  were  not  winged 
by  men  stationed  farther  up.  Of  course,  that  must 
be  quite  obvious  to  all  of  you.  My  friend  De  Soto 


128  GREEN  FANCY 

is  inclined  to  the  belief  that  they  were  trying  to  get 
across  the  border.  I  don't  believe  so.  It  that  were 
the  case,  why  did  they  dismount  above  Conley's 
house,  hitch  their  horses  to  the  fence,  and  set  forth 
on  foot?  I  am  convinced  in  my  own  mind  that  they 
came  here  to  meet  some  one  to  whom  they  were  to 
deliver  a  verbal  report  of  vital  importance, — some 
one  from  across  the  border  in  Canada.  This  message 
was  delivered.  So  far  as  Roon  and  Paul  were  con 
cerned  their  usefulness  was  ended.  They  had  done 
all  that  was  required  of  them.  The  cause  they  served 
was  better  off  with  them  dead  than  alive.  Without 
the  slightest  compunction,  without  the  least  regard 
for  faithful  service,  they  were  set  upon  and  slain  by 
their  supposed  friends.  Now,  you  may  laugh  at 
my  fancy  if  you  like,  but  you  must  remember  that 
frightful  things  are  happening  in  these  days.  The 
killing  of  these  men  adds  but  a  drop  to  the  ocean 
of  blood  that  is  being  shed.  Roon  and  Paul,  sud 
denly  confronted  by  treachery,  fled  for  their  lives. 
The  trap  had  been  set  with  care,  however;  they 
rushed  into  it." 

"I  am  inclined  to  your  hypothesis,  O'Dowd,"  said 
Barnes.  "It  seems  sound  and  reasonable.  The  ex 
traordinary  precautions  taken  by  Roon  and  Paul 
to  prevent  identification,  dead  or  alive,  supports 
your  whimsey,  as  you  call  it.  The  thing  that  puz 
zles  me,  however,  is  the  singular  failure  of  the  two 
men  to  defend  themselves.  They  were  armed,  yet 
neither  fired  a  shot.  You  would  think  that  when  they 


EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST  OF  FACTS     129 

found  themselves  in  a  tight  place,  such  as  you  sug 
gest,  their  first  impulse  would  be  to  shoot." 

"Well,"  mused  O'Dowd,  squinting  his  eyes  in 
thought,  "there's  something  in  that.  It  doesn't  seem 
reasonable  that  they'd  run  like  whiteheads  with  guns 
in — By  Jove,  here's  a  new  thought !"  His  eyes  glis 
tened  with  boyish  elation.  "They  had  delivered  their 
message, — we'll  assume  that  much,  of  course, — and 
were  walking  back  to  their  horses  when  they  were 
ordered  to  halt  by  some  one  hidden  in  the  brush  at 
the  roadside.  You  can't  very  well  succeed  in  hitting 
a  man  if  you  can't  see  him  at  all,  so  they  made  a 
dash  for  it  instead  of  wasting  time  in  shooting  at  the 
air.  What's  more,  they  may  have  anticipated  the 
very  thing  that  happened:  they  were  prepared  for 
treachery.  Their  only  chance  lay  in  getting  safely 
into  their  saddles.  Oh,  I  am  a  good  romancer!  I 
should  be  writing  dime  novels  instead  of  living  the 
respectable  life  I  do.  Conley  heard  them  running 
for  their  lives.  Assassins  had  been  stationed  along 
the  road  to  head  them  off,  however.  The  man  who 
had  his  place  near  the  horses,  got  Roon.  The 
chances  are  that  Paul  did  not  accompany  Roon  to 
the  meeting  place  up  the  road.  He  remained  near 
the  horses.  That's  how  he  managed  to  get  away  so 
quickly.  It  remained  for  the  man  at  the  cross-roads 
to  settle  with  him.  But,  we're  wasting  time  with  all 
this  twaddle  of  mine.  Let  us  be  moving.  There  is 
one  point  on  which  we  must  all  agree.  The  deadliest 
marksmen  in  the  world  fired  those  shots.  No  bun 
gling  on  that  score,  bedad." 


130  GREEN  FANCY 

In  course  of  time,  the  party,  traversing  the  ground 
contiguous  to  the  public  road,  came  within  sight  of 
the  green  dwelling  among  the  trees.  Barnes's  inter 
est  revived.  He  had,  from  the  outset,  appreciated 
the  futility  of  the  search  for  clues  in  the  territory 
they  had  covered.  The  searchers  were  incapable  of 
conducting  a  scientific  examination.  It  was  work 
for  the  most  skilful,  the  most  practised,  the  most 
untiring  of  tracers.  His  second  view  of  the  house 
increased  his  wonder  and  admiration.  If  O'Dowd 
had  not  actually  located  it  among  the  trees  for  him, 
he  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  discover  it,  although 
it  was  immediately  in  front  of  him  and  in  direct  line 
of  vision. 

"Astonishing,  isn't  it?"  said  the  Irishman,  as  they 
stood  side  by  side,  peering  ahead. 

"Marvellous  is  the  better  word,"  said  Barnes. 

"The  fairies  might  have  built  it,"  said  the  other, 
with  something  like  awe  in  his  voice.  He  shook  his 
head  solemnly. 

"One  could  almost  fancy  that  a  fairy  queen  dwelt 
there,  surrounded  by  Peter  Pans  and  Aladdins," 
mused  Barnes. 

"Instead  of  an  ogre  attended  by  owls  and  night- 
birds  and  the  devil  knows  what, — for  I  don't." 

Barnes  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  struck  by  the 
curious  note  in  his  voice. 

"If  you  were  a  small  boy  in  knickers,  O'Dowd,  1 
should  say  that  you  were  mortally  afraid  of  the 
place." 

"If  I  were  a  small  boy,"  said  O'Dowd,  "I'd  be 


EXPEDITION  IN  QUEST  OF  FACTS 

scairt  entirely  out  of  me  knickers.  I'd  keep  me  boots 
on,  mind  ye,  so  that  I  could  run  the  better.  It's  me 
Irish  imagination  that  does  the  trick.  You  never 
saw  an  Irishman  in  your  life  that  wasn't  conscious 
of  the  'little  people'  that  inhabit  the  places  that  are 
always  dark  and  green." 

De  Soto  was  seen  approaching  through  the  green 
sea,  his  head  appearing  and  disappearing  intermit 
tently  in  the  billows  formed  by  the  undulating  under 
brush.  He  shook  hands  with  Barnes  a  moment 
later. 

"I'm  glad  you  had  the  sense  to  bring  Mr.  Barnes 
with  you,  O'Dowd,"  said  he.  "You  didn't  mention 
him  when  you  telephoned  that  you  were  personally 
conducting  a  sight-seeing  party.  I  tried  to  catch 
you  afterwards  on  the  telephone,  but  you  had  left 
the  tavern.  Mrs.  Collier  wanted  me  to  ask  you  to 
capture  Mr.  Barnes  for  dinner  to-night." 

"Mrs.  Collier  is  the  sister  of  Mr.  Curtis,"  ex 
plained  O'Dowd.  Then  he  turned  upon  De  Soto  in 
credulously.  "For  the  love  of  Pat,"  he  cried 
"what's  come  over  them?  When  I  made  so  bold  as 
to  suggest  last  night  that  you  were  a  chap  worth 
cultivating,  Barnes, — and  that  you  wouldn't  be  long 
in  the  neghbourhood, — But,  to  save  your  feelings  I'll 
not  repeat  what  they  said,  the  two  of  them.  What 
changed  them  over,  De  Soto?" 

"A  chance  remark  of  Miss  Cameron's  at  lunch 
to-day.  She  wondered  if  Barnes  could  be  the  chap 
who  wrote  the  articles  about  Peru  and  the  Incas,  or 
something  of  the  sort,  and  that  set  them  to  looking 


GREEN  FANCY 

up  the  back  numbers  of  the  geographic  magazine  in 
Mr.  Curtis's  library.  Not  only  did  they  find  the 
articles  but  they  found  your  picture.  I  had  no  diffi 
culty  in  deciding  that  you  were  one  and  the  same. 
The  atmosphere  cleared  in  a  jiffy.  It  became  even 
clearer  when  it  was  discovered  that  you  have  had 
a  few  ancestors  and  are  received  in  good  society — 
both  here  and  abroad,  as  the  late  Frederic  Town- 
send  Martin  would  have  said.  I  hereby  officially  pre 
sent  the  result  of  subsequent  deliberation.  Mr. 
Barnes  is  invited  to  dine  with  us  to-night." 

Barnes's  heart  was  still  pounding  rapidly  as  he 
made  the  rueful  admission  that  he  "didn't  have  a 
thing  to  wear."  He  couldn't  think  of  accepting  the 
gracious  invitation 

"Don't  you  think  the  clothes  you  have  on  your 
back  will  last  through  the  evening?"  inquired  O'Dowd 
quaintly. 

"But  look  at  them !"  cried  Barnes.  "Fve  tramped 
in  'em  for  two  weeks  and " 

"All  the  more  reason  why  you  should  be  thankful 
they're  good  and  stout,"  said  O'Dowd. 

"We  live  rather  simply  up  here,  Mr.  Barnes," 
said  De  Soto.  "There  isn't  a  dinner  jacket  or  a 
spike  tail  coat  on  the  place.  It's  strictly  against  the 
law  up  here  to  have  such  things  about  one's  person. 
Come  as  you  are,  sir.  I  assure  you  I  speak  the 
truth  when  I  say  we  don't  dress  for  dinner." 

"Bedad,"  said  O'Dowd  enthusiastically,  "if  it  will 
make  ye  feel  any  more  comfortable  I'll  put  on  the 
corduroy  outfit  I  go  trout  fishing  in,  bespattered  and 


133 

patched  as  it  is.  And  De  Soto  will  appear  in  the 
white  duck  trousers  and  blazer  he  tries  to  play  ten 
nis  in, — though,  God  bless  him,  poor  wretch,  he  hates 
to  put  them  on  after  all  he's  heard  said  about  his 
game." 

"If  they'll  take  me  as  I  am,"  began  Barnes,  doubt- 
fully. 

"I  say,"  called  out  O'Dowd  to  the  sheriff,  who 
was  gazing  longingly  at  the  horses  tethered  at  the 
bottom  of  the  slope;  "would  ye  mind  leading  Mr. 
Barnes's  nag  back  to  the  Tavern  ?  He  is  stopping  to 
dinner.  And,  while  I  think  of  it,  are  you  satisfied, 
Mr.  Sheriff,  with  the  day's  work?  If  not,  you  will 
be  welcome  again  at  any  time,  if  ye'll  only  telephone 
a  half  minute  in  advance."  To  Barnes  he  said: 
"We'll  send  you  down  in  the  automobile  to-night, 
provided  it  has  survived  the  day.  We're  expecting 
the  poor  thing  to  die  in  its  tracks  at  almost  any 
instant. " 

Ten  minutes  later  Barnes  passed  through  the  por 
tals  of  Green  Fancy. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    FIEST    WAYFARER,    THE    SECOND    WAYFARER,    AND 
THE    SPIRIT   OF    CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT 

THE  wide  green  door,  set  far  back  in  a  recess 
not  unlike  a  kiosk,  was  opened  by  a  man 
servant  who  might  easily  have  been  mistaken 
for  a  waiter  from  Delmonico's  or  Sherry's.  He  did 
not  have  the  air  or  aplomb  of  a  butler,  nor  the  smart 
ness  of  a  footman.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a  thick 
set,  rather  scrubby  sort  of  person  with  all  the  symp 
toms  of  cafe  servitude  about  him,  including  the  never- 
failing  doubt  as  to  nationality.  He  might  have  been 
a  Greek,  a  Pole,  an  Italian  or  a  Turk. 

"Say  to  Mrs.  Collier,  Nicholas,  that  Mr.  Barnes 
is  here  for  dinner,"  said  De  Soto.  "I  will  make  the 
cocktails  this  evening." 

Much  to  Barnes's  surprise, — and  disappointment, 
— the  interior  of  the  house  failed  to  sustain  the  be 
wildering  effect  produced  by  the  exterior.  The  en 
trance  hall  and  the  living-room  into  which  he  was 
conducted  by  the  two  men  were  singularly  like  others 
that  he  had  seen.  The  latter,  for  example,  was  of 
ordinary  dimensions,  furnished  with  a  thought  for 
comfort  rather  than  elegance  or  even  good  taste. 
The  rugs  were  thick  and  in  tone  held  almost  exclu- 

134 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT     135 

sively  to  Turkish  reds ;  the  couches  and  chairs  were 
low  and  deep  and  comfortable,  as  if  intended  for  men 
only,  and  they  were  covered  with  rich,  gay  mate 
rials  ;  the  hangings  at  the  windows  were  of  deep  blue 
and  gold;  the  walls  an  unobtrusive  cream  colour, 
almost  literally  thatched  with  etchings. 

Barnes,  somewhat  of  a  connoisseur,  was  not  slow 
to  recognise  the  value  and  extreme  rarity  of  the 
prints.  Rembrandt,  Whistler,  Hayden,  Merryon, 
Cameron,  Muirhead  Bone  and  Zorn  were  represented 
by  their  most  notable  creations;  two  startling  sub 
jects  by  Brangwyn  hung  alone  in  one  corner  of  the 
room,  isolated,  it  would  seem,  out  of  consideration 
for  the  gleaming,  jewel-like  surfaces  of  other  and 
smaller  treasures.  There  were  at  least  a  dozen 
Zorns,  as  many  Whistlers  and  Camerons. 

O'Dowd,  observing  the  glance  of  appreciation  that 
Barnes  sent  about  the  room,  said:  "All  of  thim  are 
in  the  very  rarest  state.  He  has  one  of  the  finest 
collections  in  America.  Ye'll  want  your  boots 
cleaned  and  polished,  and  your  face  needs  scrubbing, 
if  ye  don't  mind  my  saying  so,"  he  went  on,  critically 
surveying  the  visitor's  person.  "Come  up  to  my 
room  and  make  yourself  tidy.  My  own  man  will  dust 
you  off  and  furbish  you  up  in  no  time  at  all." 

They  passed  into  another  room  at  the  left  and 
approached  a  wide  stairway,  the  lower  step  of  which 
was  flush  with  the  baseboard  on  the  wall.  Not  so 
much  as  an  inch  of  the  stairway  protruded  into  the 
room,  and  yet  Barnes,  whose  artistic  sense  should 
have  been  offended,  was  curiously  pleased  with  the 


136  GREEN  FANCY 

arrangement  and  effect.  He  made  a  mental  note  of 
this  deliberate  violation  of  the  holy  rules  of  construc 
tion,  and  decided  that  one  day  he  would  try  it  out  for 
himself. 

The  room  itself  was  obviously  a  continuation  of 
the  larger  one  beyond,  a  sort  of  annex,  as  it  were, 
The  same  scheme  in  decoration  and  furnishings  was 
observed,  except  here  the  walls  were  adorned  with 
small  paintings  in  oil,  heavily  framed.  Hanging  in 
the  panel  at  the  right  of  the  stairway  was  an  exquis 
ite  little  Corot,  silvery  and  feathery  even  in  the  dim 
light  of  early  dusk.  On  the  opposite  side  was  a  bril 
liant  little  Cazin. 

The  stairs  were  thickly  carpeted.  At  the  top,  his 
guide  turned  to  the  left  and  led  the  way  down  a  long 
corridor.  They  passed  at  least  four  doors  before 
O'Dowd  stopped  and  threw  open  the  fifth  on  that 
side  of  the  hall.  There  were  still  two  more  doors 
beyond. 

"Suggests  a  hotel,  doesn't  it?"  said  the  Irishman, 
standing  aside  for  Barnes  to  enter.  "All  of  the 
sleeping  apartments  are  on  this  floor,  and  the  baths, 
and  boudoirs,  and  what-not.  The  garret  is  above, 
and  that's  where  we  deposit  our  family  skeletons, 
interne  our  grievances,  store  our  stock  of  spiteful- 
ness,  and  hide  all  the  little  devils  that  must  come 
sneaking  up  from  the  city  with  us  whether  we  will 
or  no.  Nothing  but  good-humour,  contentment,  hap 
piness  and  mirth  are  permitted  to  occupy  this  floor 
and  the  one  below.  I  might  also  add  beauty,  for  you 
can't  conceive  any  of  the  others  without  it,  me  friend. 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT     137 

God  knows  I  couldn't  be  good-natured  for  a  minute 
if  I  wasn't  encouraged  by  beauty  appreciative,  and 
as  for  being  contented,  happy  or  mirthful, — bedad, 
words  fail  me!  Dabson,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
man  who  had  quietly  entered  the  room  through  the 
door  behind  them,  "do  Mr.  Barnes,  will  ye,  and  fetch 
me  from  Mr.  De  Soto's  room  when  you've  finished. 
I  leave  you  to  Dabson's  tender  mercies.  The  saints 
preserve  us!  Look  at  the  man's  boots!  Dabson, 
get  out  your  brush  and  dauber  first  of  all.  He's 
been  floundering  in  a  bog." 

The  jovial  Irishman  retired,  leaving  Barnes  to 
be  "done"  by  the  silent,  swift-moving  valet.  Dabson 
was  young  and  vigorous  and  exceedingly  well-trained. 
He  made  short  work  of  "doing"  the  visitor;  barely 
fifteen  minutes  elapsed  before  O'Dowd's  return. 

Presently  they  went  downstairs  together.  Lamps 
had  been  lighted,  many  of  them,  throughout  the 
house.  A  warm,  pleasing  glow  filled  the  rooms,  soft 
ening, — one  might  even  say  tempering, — the  insist 
ent  reds  in  the  rugs,  which  now  seemed  to  reflect 
rather  than  to  project  their  hues;  a  fire  crackled  in 
the  cavernous  fireplace  at  the  end  of  the  living-room, 
and  grouped  about  its  cheerful,  grateful  blaze  were 
the  ladies  of  Green  Fancy. 

Barnes  was  aware  of  a  quickening  of  his  pulses  as 
he  advanced  with  O'Dowd.  De  Soto  was  there  ahead 
of  them,  posed  ungracefully  in  front  of  the  fire,  his 
feet  widespread,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Another 
man,  sallow-faced  and  tall,  with  a  tired  looking 
blond  moustache  and  sleepy  eyes,  was  managing, 


138  GREEN  FANCY 

with  amazing  skill,  the  retention  of  a  cigarette  which 
seemed  to  be  constantly  in  peril  of  detaching  itself 
from  his  parted  though  inactive  lips. 

She  was  there,  standing  slightly  aloof  from  the 
others,  but  evidently  amused  by  the  tale  with  which 
De  Soto  was  regaling  them.  She  was  smiling ;  Barnes 
saw  the  sapphire  lights  sparkling  in  her  eyes,  and 
experienced  a  sensation  that  was  wofully  akin  to 
confusion. 

He  had  the  feeling  that  he  would  be  absolutely 
speechless  when  presented  to  her;  in  the  full,  lumi 
nous  glow  of  those  lovely  eyes  he  would  lose  con 
sciousness,  momentarily,  no  doubt,  but  long  enough 
to  give  her, — and  all  the  rest  of  them, — no  end  of 
a  fright. 

But  nothing  of  the  kind  happened.  Everything 
went  off  quite  naturally.  He  favoured  Miss  Cameron 
with  an  uncommonly  self-possessed  smile  as  she  gave 
her  hand  to  him,  and  she,  in  turn,  responded  with  one 
faintly  suggestive  of  tolerance,  although  it  certainly 
would  have  been  recorded  by  a  less  sensitive  person 
than  Barnes  as  "ripping." 

In  reply  to  his  perfunctory  "delighted,  I'm  sure, 
etc.,"  she  said,  quite  clearly:  "Oh,  now  I  remember. 
I  was  sure  I  had  seen  you  before,  Mr.  Barnes.  You 
are  the  magic  gentleman  who  sprung  like  a  mush 
room  out  of  the  earth  yesterday  afternoon." 

"And  frightened  you,"  he  said;  "whereupon  you 
vanished  like  the  mushroom  that  is  gobbled  up  by 
the  predatory  glutton." 

He  had  thrilled  at  the  sound  of  her  voice.    It  was 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT 

the  low,  deliberate  voice  of  the  woman  of  the  cross 
roads,  and,  as  before,  he  caught  the  almost  imper 
ceptible  accent.  The  red  gleam  from  the  blazing 
logs  fell  upon  her  shining  hair ;  it  glistened  like  gold. 
She  wore  a  simple  evening  gown  of  white,  softened 
over  the  shoulders  and  neck  with  a  fall  of  rare 
vallenciennes  lace.  There  was  no  jewelry, — not  even 
a  ring  on  her  slender,  tapering  fingers.  Oddly 
enough,  now  that  he  stood  beside  her,  she  was  not  so 
tall  as  he  had  believed  her  to  be  the  day  before. 
The  crown  of  her  silken  head  came  but  little  above 
his  shoulder.  As  she  had  appeared  to  him  among 
the  trees  he  would  have  sworn  that  she  was  but  little 
below  his  own  height,  which  was  a  liberal  six  feet. 
He  recalled  a  flash  of  wonder  on  that  occasion;  she 
had  seemed  so  much  taller  than  the  woman  at  the 
cross-roads  that  he  was  almost  convinced  that  she 
could  not,  after  all,  be  the  same  person.  Now  she 
was  back  to  the  height  that  he  remembered,  and  he 
marvelled  once  more. 

Mrs.  Collier,  the  hostess,  was  an  elderly,  heavy- 
featured  woman,  decidedly  over-dressed.  Barnes 
knew  her  kind.  One  encounters  her  everywhere:  the 
otherwise  intelligent  woman  who  has  no  sense  about 
her  clothes.  Mrs.  Van  Dyke,  her  daughter,  was  a 
woman  of  thirty,  tall,  dark  and  handsome  in  a  bold, 
dashing  sort  of  way.  She  too  was  rather  resplendent 
in  a  black  jet  gown,  and  she  was  liberally  bestrewn 
with  jewels.  Much  to  Barnes's  surprise,  she  pos 
sessed  a  soft,  gentle  speaking-voice  and  a  quiet,  musi 
cal  laugh  instead  of  the  boisterous  tones  and  cackle 


140  GREEN  FANCY 

that  he  always  associated  with  her  type.  The 
lackadaisical  gentleman  with  the  moustache  turned 
out  to  be  her  husband. 

"My  brother  is  unable  to  be  with  us  to-night,  Mr. 
Barnes,"  explained  Mrs.  Collier.  "Mr.  O'Dowd  may 
have  told  you  that  he  is  an  invalid.  Quite  rarely  is 
he  well  enough  to  leave  his  room.  He  has  been  feel 
ing  much  better  of  late,  but  now  his  nerves  are  all 
torn  to  pieces  by  this  shooting  affair.  The  mere 
knowledge  that  our  grounds  were  being  inspected  to 
day  by  the  authorities  upset  him  terribly.  He  has 
begged  me  to  present  his  apologies  and  regrets  to 
you.  Another  time,  perhaps,  you  will  give  him  the 
pleasure  he  is  missing  to-night.  He  wanted  so  much 
to  talk  with  you  about  the  quaint  places  you  have  de 
scribed  so  charmingly  in  your  articles.  They  must 
be  wonderfully  appealing.  One  cannot  read  your 
descriptions  without  really  envying  the  people  who 
live  in  those  enchanted " 

"Ahem !"  coughed  O'Dowd,  who  actually  had  read 
the  articles  and  could  see  nothing  alluring  in  a  pros 
pect  that  contemplated  barren,  snow-swept  wilder 
nesses  in  the  Andes.  "The  only  advantage  I  can 
see  in  living  up  there,*'  he  said,  with  a  sly  wink  at 
Barnes,  "is  that  one  has  all  the  privileges  of  death 
without  being  put  to  the  expense  of  burial." 

"How  very  extraordinary,  Mr.  O'Dowd,"  said 
Mrs.  Collier,  lifting  her  lorgnon. 

"Mrs.  Collier  has  been  reading  my  paper  on  the 
chateau  country  in  France,"  said  Barnes  menda- 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT 

ciously.  (It  had  not  yet  been  published,  but  what 
of  that?) 

"Perfectly  delightful,"  said  Mrs.  Collier,  and  at 
once  changed  the  subject. 

De  Soto's  cocktails  came  in.  Miss  Cameron  did 
not  take  one.  O'Dowd  proposed  a  toast. 

"To  the  rascals  who  went  gunning  for  the  other 
rascals.  But  for  them  we  should  be  short  at  least 
one  member  of  this  agreeable  company." 

It  was  rather  startling.  Barnes's  glass  stopped 
half-way  to  his  lips.  An  instant  later  he  drained  it. 
He  accepted  the  toast  as  a  compliment  from  the 
whilom  Irishman,  and  not  as  a  tribute  to  the  prowess 
of  those  mysterious  marksmen. 

"Rather  grewsome,  O'Dowd,"  drawled  Van  Dyke, 
"but  offset  by  the  foresightedness  of  the  maker  of 
this  cocktail.  Uncommonly  good  one,  De  Soto." 

The  table  in  the  spacious  dining-room  was  one  of 
those  long,  narrow  Italian  boards,  unmistakably  an 
tique  and  equally  rare.  Sixteen  or  eighteen  people 
could  have  been  seated  without  crowding,  and  when 
the  seven  took  their  places  wide  intervals  separated 
them.  No  effort  had  been  made  by  the  hostess  to 
bring  her  guests  close  together,  as  might  have  been 
done  by  using  one  end  or  the  centre  of  the  table. 
Except  for  scattered  doylies,  the  smooth,  nut-brown 
top  was  bare  of  cloth;  there  was  a  glorious  patina 
to  this  huge  old  board,  with  tiny  cracks  running  like 
veins  across  its  surface. 

Decorations  were  scant.  A  half  dozen  big  candle 
sticks,  ecclesiastical  in  character,  were  placed  at 


GREEN  FANCY 

proper  intervals,  and  at  each  end  of  the  table  there 
was  a  shallow,  alabaster  dish  containing  pansies. 
The  serving  plates  were  of  silver.  Especially  beauti 
ful  were  the  long-stemmed  water  goblets  and  the 
graceful  champagne  glasses.  They  were  blue  and 
white  and  of  a  design  and  quality  no  longer  obtain 
able  except  at  great  cost.  The  aesthetic  Barnes  was 
not  slow  to  appreciate  the  rarity  of  the  glassware 
and  the  chaste  beauty  of  the  serving  plates. 

The  man  Nicholas  was  evidently  the  butler,  de 
spite  his  Seventh  Avenue  manner.  He  was  assisted 
in  serving  by  two  stalwart  and  amazingly  clumsy 
footmen,  of  similar  ilk  and  nationality.  On  seeing 
these  additional  men-servants,  Barnes  began  figura 
tively  to  count  on  his  fingers  the  retainers  he  had  so 
far  encountered  on  the  place.  Already  he  has  seen 
six,  all  of  them  powerful,  rugged  fellows.  It  struck 
him  as  extraordinary,  and  in  a  way  significant,  that 
there  should  be  so  many  men  at  Green  Fancy. 

Somewhere  back  in  his  mind  was  the  impression 
that  O'Dowd  had  spoken  of  Pierre  the  cook,  a  pri 
vate  secretary  and  male  attendant  who  looked  after 
Mr.  Curtis.  Then  there  was  Peter,  the  regular 
chauffeur,  whom  he  had  not  seen,  and  doubtless  there 
were  able-bodied  woodchoppers  and  foresters  besides. 
Not  forgetting  the  little  book-agent!  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  he  was  surrounded  by  a  com 
pany  of  the  most  formidable  character:  no  less  than 
twenty  men  would  be  a  reasonable  guess  if  he  were 
to  include  O'Dowd,  De  Soto  and  Van  Dyke. 

Much  to  his  disappointment,  he  was  not  placed 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT 

near  Miss  Cameron  at  table.  Indeed,  she  was  seated 
as  far  away  from  him  as  possible.  He  sat  at  Mrs. 
Collier's  right.  On  his  left  was  Mrs.  Van  Dyke, 
with  Miss  Cameron  at  the  foot  of  the  table  flanked 
by  O'Dowd  and  De  Soto.  Van  Dyke  had  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  to  himself. 
There  was,  to  be  sure,  a  place  set  between  him  and 
De  Soto,  for  symmetry's  sake,  Barnes  concluded. 
In  this  he  was  mistaken ;  they  had  barely  seated  them 
selves  when  Mrs.  Collier  remarked: 

"Mr.  Curtis's  secretary  usually  joins  us  here  for 
coffee.  He  has  his  dinner  with  my  brother  and  then, 
poor  man,  comes  in  for  a  brief  period  of  relaxation. 
When  my  brother  is  in  one  of  his  bad  spells  poor 
Mr.  Loeb  doesn't  have  much  time  to  himself.  It 
seems  to  me  that  my  brother  is  at  his  best  when  his 
health  is  at  its  worst.  You  may  be  interested  to 
know,  Mr.  Barnes,  that  he  is  writing  a  history  of 
the  Five  Nations." 

"Indians,  you  know,"  explained  Van  Dyke. 

"A  history  of  the  Mohawks,  Oneidas,  Cayugas, 
Onondagas  and  Senecas,  and  their  'Long  House* 
should  be  of  great  value,  Mrs.  Collier,"  said  Barnes, 
a  trifle  didactically.  "When  does  he  expect  to  have 
it  completed?" 

"  'Gad,  you  know  a  little  of  everything,  don't 
you  ?"  said  Van  Dyke,  sitting  up  a  little  straighter  in 
his  chair  and  eyeing  Barnes  fishily.  ("Awfully  smart 
chap,"  he  afterwards  confided  to  O'Dowd.)  "If  he 
lives  long  enough,  he'll  finish  it  in  1999,"  he  added, 
lifting  his  voice  above  Mrs.  Collier's  passive  reply 


144  GREEN  FANCY 

out  of  which  Barnes  gathered  the  words  "couple"  and 
"years." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dilate  upon  the  excellence 
of  the  dinner,  to  repeat  the  dialogue,  or  to  comment 
on  the  service,  other  than  to  say,  for  the  sake  of 
record,  that  the  first  was  excellent;  the  second 
sprightly,  and  the  third  atrocious. 

Loeb,  the  private  secretary,  came  in  for  coffee. 
He  was  a  tall,  spare  man  of  thirty,  pallidly  hand 
some,  with  dark,  studious  eyes  and  features  of  an 
unmistakably  Hebraic  cast,  as  his  name  might  have 
foretold.  His  teeth  were  marvellously  white,  and 
his  slow  smile  attractive.  When  he  spoke,  which 
was  seldom  unless  a  remark  was  directed  specifically 
to  him,  his  voice  was  singularly  deep  and  resonant. 
More  than  once  during  the  hour  that  Loeb  spent 
with  them  Barnes  formed  and  dismissed  a.  stubborn, 
ever-recurring  opinion  that  the  man  was  not  a  Jew. 
Certainly  he  was  not  an  American  Jew.  His  voice, 
his  manner  of  speech,  his  every  action  stamped  him 
as  one  born  and  bred  in  a  land  far  removed  from 
Broadway  and  its  counterparts.  If  a  Jew,  he  was 
of  the  East  as  it  is  measured  from  Rome:  the  Jew 
of  the  carnal  Orient. 

And  as  the  evening  wore  on,  there  came  to  Barnes 
the  singular  fancy  that  this  man  was  the  master 
and  not  the  servant  of  the  house !  He  could  not  put 
the  ridiculous  idea  out  of  his  mind. 

He  was  to  depart  at  ten.  The  hour  drew  near  and 
he  had  had  no  opportunity  for  detached  conversa 
tion  with  Miss  Cameron.  He  had  listened  to  her 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT     145 

bright  retorts  to  O'Dowd's  sallies,  and  marvelled  at 
the  ease  and  composure  with  which  she  met  the  witty 
Irishman  on  even  terms.  Her  voice,  always  low  and 
distinct,  was  never  without  the  suggestion  of  good- 
natured  raillery;  he  was  enchanted  by  the  faint,  de 
licious  chuckle  that  rode  in  every  sentence  she  ut 
tered  during  these  sprightly  tilts. 

When  the  conversation  turned  to  serious  topics, 
her  voice  steadied  perceptibly,  the  blue  in  her  eyes 
took  on  a  deeper  and  darker  hue,  the  half-satirical 
smile  vanished  from  her  adorable  lips,  and  she  spoke 
with  the  gravity  of  a  profound  thinker.  Barnes 
watched  her,  fascinated,  bereft  of  the  power  to  con 
centrate  his  thoughts  on  anything  else.  He  hung 
on  her  every  movement,  hoping  and  longing  for  the 
impersonal  glance  or  remark  with  which  she  occa 
sionally  favoured  him. 

Not  until  the  very  close  of  the  evening,  and  when 
he  had  resigned  himself  to  hopelessness,  did  the  op 
portunity  come  for  him  to  speak  with  her  alone. 
She  caught  his  eye,  and,  to  his  amazement,  made  a 
slight  movement  of  her  head,  unobserved  by  the 
others  but  curiously  imperative  to  him.  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  meaning  of  the  direct,  intense  look 
that  she  gave  him. 

She  was  appealing  to  him  as  a  friend, — as  one  on 
whom  she  could  depend ! 

The  spirit  of  chivalry  took  possession  of  him. 
His  blood  leaped  to  the  call.  She  needed  him  and  he 
would  not  fail  her.  And  it  was  with  difficulty  that 


146  GREEN  FANCY 

he  contrived  to  hide  the  exaltation  that  might  have 
ruined  everything! 

Loeb  had  returned  to  his  labours  in  Mr.  Curtis's 
study,  after  bidding  Barnes  a  courteous  good-night. 
It  seemed  to  the  latter  that  with  the  secretary's  de 
parture  an  indefinable  restraint  fell  away  from  the 
small  company. 

While  he  was  trying  to  invent  a  pretext  for  draw 
ing  her  apart  from  the  others,  she  calmly  ordered 
Van  Dyke  to  relinquish  his  place  on  the  couch  beside 
her  to  Barnes. 

"Come  and  sit  beside  me,  Mr.  Barnes,"  she  called 
out,  gaily.  "I  will  not  bite  you,  or  scratch  you,  or 
harm  you  in  any  way.  Ask  Mr.  O'Dowd  and  he  will 
tell  you  that  I  am  quite  docile.  What  is  there  about 
me,  sir,  that  causes  you  to  think  that  I  am  danger 
ous?  You  have  barely  spoken  a  word  to  me,  and 
you've  been  disagreeably  nice  to  Mrs.  Collier  and 
Mrs.  Van  Dyke.  I  don't  bite,  do  I,  Mr.  O'Dowd?" 

"You  do,"  said  O'Dowd  promptly.  "You  do  more 
than  that.  You  devour.  Bedad,  I  have  to  look  in 
a  mirror  to  convince  meself  that  you  haven't  swal 
lowed  me  whole.  That's  another  way  of  telling  you, 
Barnes,  that  shell  absorb  you  entirely." 

It  was  a  long,  deep  and  comfortable  couch  of  the 
davenport  class,  and  she  sat  in  the  middle  of  it 
instead  of  at  the  end,  a  circumstance  that  he  was 
soon  to  regard  as  premeditated.  She  had  planned  to 
bring  him  to  this  place  beside  her  and  had  cunningly 
prepared  against  the  possibility  that  he  might  put 
the  full  length  of  the  couch  between  them  if  she  set- 


SPIRIT  OF  CHIVALRY  ASCENDANT     147 

tied  herself  in  a  corner.  As  it  was,  their  elbows  al 
most  touched  as  he  sat  down  beside  her. 

For  a  few  minutes  she  chided  him  for  his  un 
seemly  aversion.  He  was  beginning  to  think  that  he 
had  been  mistaken  in  her  motive,  and  that  after  all 
she  was  merely  satisfying  her  vanity.  Suddenly, 
and  as  she  smiled  into  his  eyes,  she  said,  lowering 
her  voice  slightly: 

"Do  not  appear  surprised  at  anything  I  may  say 
to  you.  Smile  as  if  we  were  uttering  the  silliest  non 
sense.  So  much  depends  upon  it,  Mr.  Barnes." 


CHAPTER     X 

THE  PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY,  AND  THE  LAMENT  OF 
PETEE  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

HE  envied  Mr.  Rushcroft.  The  barn-stormer 
would  have  risen  to  the  occasion  without  so 
much  as  the  blinking  of  an  eye.  He  would 
have  been  able  to  smile  and  gesticulate  in  a  manner 
that  would  have  deceived  the  most  acute  observer, 
while  he — ah,  he  was  almost  certain  to  flounder  and 
make  a  mess  of  the  situation.  He  did  his  best,  how 
ever,  and,  despite  his  eagerness,  managed  to  come  off 
fairly  well.  Any  one  out  of  ear-shot  would  have 
thought  that  he  was  uttering  some  trifling  inanity 
instead  of  these  words : 

"You  may  trust  me.  I  have  suspected  that  some 
thing  was  wrong  here." 

"It  is  impossible  to  explain  now,"  she  said.  "These 
people  are  not  my  friends.  I  have  no  one  to  turn 
to  in  my  predicament." 

"Yes,  you  have,"  he  broke  in,  and  laughed  rather 
boisterously  for  him.  He  felt  that  they  were  being 
watched  in  turn  by  every  person  in  the  room. 

"To-night, — not  an  hour  ago, — I  began  to  feel 
that  I  could  call  upon  you  for  help.  I  began  to 
relax.  Something  whispered  to  me  that  I  was  no 

148 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        149 

longer  utterly  alone.  Oh,  you  will  never  know  what 
it  is  to  have  your  heart  lighten  as  mine — But  I  must 
control  myself.  We  are  not  to  waste  words." 

"You  have  only  to  command  me,  Miss  Cameron. 
No  more  than  a  dozen  words  are  necessary." 

"I  knew  it, — I  felt  it,"  she  cried  eagerly.  "Noth 
ing  can  be  done  to-night.  The  slightest  untoward 
action  on  your  part  would  send  you  after — the  other 
two.  There  is  one  man  here  who,  I  think,  will  stand 
between  me  and  actual  peril.  Mr.  O'Dowd.  He 
is " 

"He  is  the  liveliest  liar  I've  ever  known,*'  broke 
in  Barnes  quickly.  "Don't  trust  him." 

"But  he  is  also  an  Irishman,"  she  said,  as  if  that 
fact  overcame  all  other  shortcomings.  "I  like  him; 
he  must  be  an  honest  man,  for  he  has  already  lied 
nobly  in  my  behalf."  She  smiled  as  she  uttered  this 
quaint  anomaly. 

"Tell  me  how  I  can  be  of  service  to  you,"  said  he, 
disposing  of  O'Dowd  with  a  shrug. 

"I  shall  try  to  communicate  with  you  in  some  way 
— to-morrow.  I  beg  of  you,  I  implore  you,  do  not 
desert  me.  If  I  can  only  be  sure  that  you  will " 

"You  may  depend  on  me,  no  matter  what  hap 
pens,"  said  he,  and,  looking  into  her  eyes  was  bound 
forever. 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  she  said.  "Yesterday  I 
made  the  discovery  that  I — that  I  am  actually  a 
prisoner  here,  Mr.  Barnes.  I — Smile!  Say  some 
thing  silly !" 


150  GREEN  FANCY 

Together  they  laughed  over  the  meaningless  re 
mark  he  made  in  response  to  her  command. 

"I  am  constantly  watched.  If  I  venture  outside 
the  house,  I  am  almost  immediately  joined  by  one  of 
these  men.  You  saw  what  happened  yesterday.  I 
am  distracted.  I  do  not  know  how  to  arrange  a 
meeting  so  that  I  may  explain  my  unhappy  position 
to  you." 

"I  will  ask  the  authorities  to  step  in  and " 

"No!  You  are  to  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  The 
authorities  would  never  find  me  if  they  came  here  to 
search."  (It  was  hard  for  him  to  smile  at  that!)  "It 
must  be  some  other  way.  If  I  could  steal  out  of  the 
house, — but  that  is  impossible,"  she  broke  off  with 
a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"Suppose  that  I  were  to  steal  into  the  house,"  he 
said,  a  reckless  light  in  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  you  could  never  succeed!" 

"Well,  I  could  try,  couldn't  I?"  There  was  noth 
ing  funny  in  the  remark  but  they  both  leaned  back 
and  laughed  heartily.  "Leave  it  to  me.  I  once  got 
into  and  out  of  a  Morrocan  harem, — but  that  story 
may  wait.  Tell  me,  where " 

"The  place  is  guarded  day  and  night.  The 
stealthiest  burglar  in  the  world  could  not  come  with 
in  a  stone's  throw  of  the  house." 

"By  Jove!  Those  two  men  night  before  last  were 

trying  to "  He  said  no  more,  but  turned  his  head 

so  that  the  others  could  not  see  the  hard  look  that 
settled  in  his  eyes.  "If  it's  as  bad  as  all  that,  we 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        151 

cannot  afford  to  make  any  slips.  You  think  you  are 
in  no  immediate  peril?" 

"I  am  in  no  peril  at  all  unless  I  bring  it  upon 
myself,"  she  said,  significantly. 

"Then  a  delay  of  a  day  or  so  will  not  matter,"  he 
said,  frowning.  "Leave  it  to  me.  I  will  find  a  way." 

"Be  careful!"  De  Soto  came  lounging  up  behind 
them.  She  went  on  speaking,  changing  the  subject 
so  abruptly  and  so  adroitly  that  for  a  moment 
Barnes  was  at  a  loss.  "But  if  she  could  obtain  all 
those  luxuries  without  using  a  penny  of  his  money, 
what  right  had  he  to  object?  Surely  a  wife  may  do 
as  she  pleases  with  her  own  money/* 

"He  was  trying  to  break  her  of  selfishness,"  said 
Barnes,  suddenly  inspired.  "The  difference  between 
men  and  women  in  the  matter  of  luxuries  lies  in  the 
fact  that  one  is  selfish  and  the  other  is  not.  A  man 
slaves  all  the  year  round  to  provide  luxuries  for  his 
wife.  The  wife  comes  into  a  nice  little  fortune  of 
her  own,  and  what  does  she  proceed  to  do  with  it? 
Squander  it  on  her  husband?  Not  much!  She  sets 
out  immediately  to  prove  to  the  world  that  he  is  a 
miser,  a  skinflint  who  never  gave  her  more  than  the 
bare  necessities  of  life.  The  chap  I  was  speaking  of 
— I  beg  pardon,  Mr.  De  Soto." 

"Forgive  me  for  interrupting,  but  I  am  under 
command  from  royal  headquarters.  Peter,  the  king 
of  chauffeurs,  sends  in  word  that  the  car  is  in  an 
amiable  mood  and  champing  to  be  off.  So  seldom  is 
it  in  a  good-humour  that  he " 

"I'll  be  off  at  once,"  exclaimed  Barnes,  arising. 


152  GREEN  FANCY 

"By  Jove,  it  is  half-past  ten.  I  had  no  idea — Good 
night,  Miss  Cameron.  Sorry  my  time  is  up.  I  am 
sure  I  could  have  made  you  hate  your  own  sex  in 
another  half  hour." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  "One  of  our  virtues  is  that 
we  never  pretend  to  be  in  love  with  our  own  sex,  Mr. 
Barnes.  That,  at  least,  is  a  luxury  reserved  solely 
for  your  sex." 

He  bowed  low  over  her  hand.  "A  necessity,  if  I 
may  be  pardoned  for  correcting  you."  He  pressed 
her  hand  re-assuringly  and  left  her. 

She  had  arisen  and  was  standing,  straight  and 
slim  by  the  corner  of  the  fireplace,  a  confident  smile 
on  her  lips. 

"If  you  are  to  be  long  in  the  neighbourhood,  Mr. 
Barnes,'*  said  his  hostess,  "you  must  let  us  have  you 
again." 

"My  stay  is  short,  I  fear.  You  have  only  to  reveal 
the  faintest  sign  that  I  may  come,  however,  and  I'll 
hop  into  my  seven  league  boots  before  you  can  utter 
Jack  Robinson's  Christian  name.  Good  night,  Mrs. 
Van  Dyke.  I  have  you  all  to  thank  for  a  most  de 
lightful  evening.  May  I  expect  to  see  you  down  our 
way,  Mr.  Van  Dyke?  We  have  food  for  man  and 
beast  at  all  times  and  in  all  forms." 

"I've  tackled  your  liquids,"  said  Van  Dyke.  "You 
are  likely  to  see  me  'most  any  day.  I'm  always  rat 
tling  'round  somewhere,  don't  you  know."  (He  said 
"rettling,"  by  the  way.) 

The  car  was  waiting  at  the  back  of  the  house. 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        153 

O'Dowd  walked  out  with  Barnes,  their  arms  linked, 
— as  on  a  former  occasion,  Barnes  recalled. 

"I'll  ride  out  to  the  gate  with  you,"  said  the  Irish 
man.  "It's  a  winding,  devious  route  the  road  takes 
through  the  trees.  As  the  crow  flies  it's  no  more 
than  five  hundred  yards,  but  this  way  it  can't  be  less 
than  a  mile  and  a  half.  Eh,  Peter?" 

Peter  opined  that  it  was  at  least  a  mile  and  a 
quarter.  He  was  a  Yankee,  as  O'Dowd  had  said, 
and  he  was  not  extravagant  in  estimates. 

The  passengers  sat  in  the  rear  seat.  Two  small 
lamps  served  to  light  the  way  through  the  Stygian 
labyrinth  of  trees  and  rocks.  O'Dowd  had  an  elec 
tric  pocket  torch  with  which  to  pick  his  way  back  to 
Green  Fancy. 

"I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  why  he  doesn't 
put  in  a  driveway  straight  to  the  road  beyond,  in 
stead  of  roaming  all  over  creation  as  we  have  to 
do,"  said  O'Dowd. 

"We  foller  the  bed  of  the  crick  that  used  to  run 
through  here  'fore  it  was  dammed  a  little  ways  up 
to  make  the  ice-pond  'tween  here  an'  Spanish  Falls," 
supplied  Peter.  "Makes  a  durned  good  road,  'cept 
when  there's  a  freshet.  It  would  cost  a  hull  lot  o' 
money  to  build  a  road  as  good  as  this-un." 

"I  was  only,  thinking  'twould  save  a  mile  and 
more,"  said  O'Dowd. 

"What's  the  use  o'  him  savin'  a  mile,  er  ten  miles, 
fer  that  matter,  when  he  never  puts  foot  out'n  the 
house?"  said  Peter,  the  logician. 


154  GREEN  FANCY 

"Well,  then,"  persisted  O'Dowd  testily,  "he  ought 
to  consider  the  saving  in  gasolene." 

Peter's  reply  was  a  grunt. 

They  came  in  time,  after  many  "hair-pins"  and 
right  angles,  to  the  gate  opening  upon  the  highway. 
Peter  got  down  from  the  seat  to  release  the  pad 
locked  chain  and  throw  open  the  gate. 

O'Dowd  leaned  closer  to  Barnes  and  lowered  his 
voice. 

"See  here,  Barnes,  I'm  no  fool,  and  for  that  reason 
I've  got  sense  enough  to  know  that  you're  not  either. 
I  don't  know  what's  in  your  mind,  nor  what  you're 
trying  to  get  into  it  if  it  isn't  already  there.  But 
I'll  say  this  to  you,  man  to  man:  don't  let  your 
imagination  get  the  better  of  your  common-sense. 
That's  all.  Take  the  tip  from  me." 

"I  am  not  imagining  anything,  O'Dowd,"  said 
Barnes  quietly.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  just  what  I  say.  I'm  giving  you  the  tip 
for  selfish  reasons.  If  you  make  a  bally  fool  of  your 
self,  I'll  have  to  see  you  through  the  worst  of  it, — 
and  it's  a  job  I  don't  relish.  Ponder  that,  will  ye, 
on  the  way  home?" 

Barnes  did  ponder  it  on  the  way  home.  There 
was  but  one  construction  to  put  upon  the  remark: 
it  was  O'Dowd's  way  of  letting  him  know  that  he 
could  be  depended  upon  for  support  if  the  worst 
came  to  pass. 

His  heart  warmed  to  the  lively  Irishman.  He 
jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  O'Dowd,  while  aligned 
with  the  others  in  the  flesh,  was  not  with  them  in 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        155 

spirit.  His  blithe  heart  was  a  gallant  one  as  well. 
The  lovely  prisoner  at  Green  Fancy  had  a  chivalrous 
defender  among  the  conspirators,  and  that  fact, 
suddenly  revealed  to  the  harassed  Barnes,  sent  a 
thrill  of  exultation  through  his  veins. 

He  realised  that  he  could  not  expect  O'Dowd  to 
be  of  any  assistance  in  preparing  the  way  for  her 
liberation.  Indeed,  the  Irishman  probably  would 
oppose  him  out  of  loyalty  to  the  cause  he  espoused. 
His  hand  would  be  against  him  until  the  end;  then 
it  would  strike  for  him  and  the  girl  who  was  in 
jeopardy. 

O'Dowd  evidently  had  not  been  deceived  by  the 
acting, that  masked  the  conversation  on  the  couch. 
He  knew  that  Miss  Cameron  had  appealed  to  Barnes, 
and  that  the  latter  had  promised  to  do  everything 
in  his  power  to  help  her. 

Suspecting  that  this  was  the  situation,  and  doubt 
less  sacrificing  his  own  private  interests,  he  had  ut 
tered  the  vague  but  timely  warning  to  Barnes.  The 
significance  of  this  warning  grew  under  reflection. 
The  mere  fact  that  he  could  bring  himself  to  the 
point  of  speaking  to  Barnes  as  he  did,  established 
beyond  all  question  that  his  position  was  not  inim 
ical.  He  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  delivering  him 
self  into  the  hands  of  one  who,  in  his  rashness,  might 
not  hesitate  to  cast  him  to  the  lions :  the  beasts 
in  this  instance  being  his  own  companions. 

Barnes  was  not  slow  to  appreciate  the  position 
in  which  O'Dowd  voluntarily  placed  himself.  A  word 
or  a  sign  from  him  would  be  sufficient  to  bring  dis- 


156  GREEN  FANCY 

aster  upon  the  Irishman  who  had  risked  his  own 
safety  in  a  few  irretrievable  words.  The  more  he 
thought  of  it,  the  more  fully  convinced  was  he  that 
there  was  nothing  to  fear  from  O'Dowd.  The  cause 
for  apprehension  in  that  direction  was  wiped  out 
by  a  simple  process  of  reasoning:  O'Dowd  would 
have  delivered  his  warning  elsewhere  if  he  intended 
evil.  While  it  was  impossible  to  decide  how  far 
O'Dowd's  friendly  interest  would  carry  him,  Barnes 
was  still  content  to  believe  that  he  would  withhold 
his  suspicions,  for  the  present  at  least,  from  the 
others  at  Green  Fancy. 

He  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  his  invitation  to 
Green  Fancy  under  the  circumstances.  The  con 
fident  attitude  of  those  responsible  for  Miss  Cam 
eron's  detention  evidently  was  based  upon  conditions 
which  rendered  their  position  tenable.  Their  disre 
gard  for  the  consequences  that  might  reasonably  be 
expected  to  result  from  this  visit  was  puzzling  in  the 
extreme.  He  could  arrive  at  no  other  conclusion 
than  that  their  hospitality  was  inspired  by  a  desire 
to  disarm  him  of  suspicion.  An  open  welcome  to  the 
house,  while  a  bold  piece  of  strategy,  was  far  better 
than  an  effort  to  cloak  the  place  in  mystery. 

As  he  left  the  place  behind  him,  he  found  him 
self  saying  that  he  had  received  his  first  and  last 
invitation  to  visit  Green  Fancy. 

Peter  drove  slowly,  carefully  over  the  road  down 
the  mountain,  in  direct  contrast  to  the  heedless  rush 
of  the  belated  "washer." 
"-     Responding  to  a  sudden  impulse.  Barnes  lowered 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        157 

one  of  the  side-seats  in  the  tonneau  and  moved 
closer  to  the  driver.  By  leaning  forward  he  was 
in  a  position  to  speak  through  the  window  at  Peter's 
back. 

"Pretty  bad  going,  isn't  it?"  he  ventured. 

"Bad  enough  in  the  daytime,"  said  Peter,  with 
out  taking  his  eyes  from  the  road,  "but  something 
fierce  at  night." 

"I  suppose  you've  been  over  it  so  often,  how 
ever,  that  you  know  every  crook  and  turn." 

"I  know  'em  well  enough  not  to  get  gay  with  'em," 
said  Peter. 

"How  long  have  you  been  driving  for  Mr.  Cur 
tis?" 

"Ever  since  he  come  up  here,  more'n  two  years 
ago.  I  used  to  drive  the  station  bus  fer  the  hotel 
down  below  Spanish  Falls.  He  stayed  there  while 
he  was  buildin'.  Guess  I'm  going  to  get  the  G.  B. 
'fore  long,  though." 

His  listener  started.  "You  don't  say  so!  Cut 
ting  down  expenses?" 

"Not  so's  you  could  notice  it,"  growled  Peter. 
"Seems  that  he's  gettin'  a  new  car  an'  wants  an  ex 
pert  machinist  to  take  hold  of  it  from  the  start.  I 
was  good  enough  to  fiddle  around  with  this  second 
hand  pile  o'  junk  an'  the  Buick  he  had  last  year, 
but  I  ain't  qualified  to  handle  this  here  twin-six 
Packard  he's  expectin',  so  he  says.  I  guess  they's 
been  some  influence  used  against  me,  if  the  truth  was 
known.  This  new  sec'etary  he's  got  cain't  stummick 
me." 


158  GREEN  FANCY 

"Why  don't  you  see  Mr.  Curtis  and  demand " 

"See  him?"  snorted  Peter.  "Might  as  well  try  to 
see  Napoleon  Bonyparte.  Didn't  you  know  he  was 
a  sick  man?" 

"Certainly.  But  he  isn't  so  ill  that  he  can't  at 
tend  to  business,  is  he?" 

"He  sure  is.  Parylised,  they  say.  He's  a  mighty 
fine  man.  It's  awful  to  think  of  him  bein'  so  help 
less  he  cain't  ever  git  out'n  his  cheer  ag'in.  Course, 
if  he  was  hisself  he  wouldn't  think  o'  lettin'  me  out. 
But  bein'  sick-like,  he  jest  don't  give  a  durn  about 
anything.  So  that's  how  this  new  sec'etary  gets 
in  his  fine  work  on  me." 

"What  has  Mr.  Loeb  against  you,  if  I  may  ask?" 
"Well,  it's  like  this.  I  ain't  in  the  habit  o'  bein' 
ordered  aroun'  as  if  I  was  jest  nobody  at  all,  so 
when  he  starts  in  to  cuss  me  about  somethin'  a  week 
or  so  ago,  I  ups  and  tells  him  I'll  smash  his  head  if 
he  don't  take  it  back.  He  takes  it  back  all  right, 
but  the  first  thing  I  know  I  get  a  call-down  from 
Mrs.  Collier.  She's  Mr.  Curtis's  sister,  you  know. 
Course  I  couldn't  tell  her  what  I  told  the  sheeny, 
seein'  as  she's  a  female,  so  I  took  it  like  a  lamb. 
Then  they  gits  a  feller  up  here  to  wash  the  car. 
My  gosh,  mister,  the  durned  ole  rattle-trap  ain't 
wuth  a  bucket  o'  water  all  told.  You  could  wash 
from  now  till  next  Christmas  an'  she  wouldn't  look 
any  cleaner'n  she  does  right  now.  So  I  sends  word 
in  to  Mr.  Curtis  that  if  she  has  to  be  washed,  I'll 
wash  her.  I  don't  want  no  dago  splashin'  water  all 
over  the  barn  floor  an*  drawin'  pay  fer  doin'  it. 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        159 

Then's  when  I  hears  about  the  new  car.  Mr.  Loeb 
comes  out  an'  asts  me  if  I  ever  drove  a  Packard 
twin-six.  I  says  no  I  ain't,  an'  he  says  it's  too  bad. 
He  asts  the  dago  if  he's  ever  drove  one  and  the  dago 
lies  like  thunder.  He  says  he's  handled  every  kind 
of  a  Packard  known  to  science,  er  somethin'  like 
that.  I  cain't  understand  half  the  durn  fool  says. 
Next  day  Mrs.  Collier  sends  fer  me  an'  I  go  in. 
She  says  she  guesses  she'll  try  the  new  washer  on 
the  Packard  when  it  comes,  an'  if  I  keer  to  stay 
on  as  washer  in  his  place  she'll  be  glad  to  have  me. 
I  says  I'd  like  to  have  a  word  with  Mr.  Curtis,  if 
she  don't  mind,  an'  she  says  Mr.  Curtis  ain't  able 
to  see  no  one.  So  I  guess  I'm  goin'  to  be  let  out. 
Not  as  I  keer  very  much,  'cept  I  hate  to  leave  Mr. 
Curtis  in  the  lurch.  He  was  mighty  good  to  me  up 
to  the  time  he  got  bed-ridden." 

"I  dare  say  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  finding 
another  place,"  said  Barnes,  feeling  his  way. 

"  'Tain't  easy  to  git  a  job  up  here.  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  try  New  York  er  some  of  the  big  cities," 
said  Peter,  confidently. 

An  idea  was  taking  root  in  Barnes's  brain,  but  it 
was  too  soon  to  consider  it  fixed. 

"You  say  Mr.  Loeb  is  new  at  his  job?" 

"Well,  he's  new  up  here.  Mr.  Curtis  was  down 
to  New  York  all  last  winter  bein'  treated,  you  see. 
He  didn't  come  up  here  till  about  five  weeks  ago. 
Loeb  was  workin'  fer  him  most  of  the  winter,  gittin' 
up  a  book  er  somethin',  I  hear.  Mr.  Curtis's  mind 
is  all  right,  I  guess,  even  if  his  body  ain't.  Always 


160  GREEN  FANCY 

was  a  great  feller  fer  books  an'  writin'  'fore  he  got 
so  sick." 

"I  see.  Mr.  Loeb  came  up  with  him  from  New 
York." 

"Kerect.  Him  and  Mr.  O'Dowd  and  Mr.  DC 
Soto  brought  him  up  'bout  the  last  o'  March." 

"I  understand  that  they  are  old  friends." 

"They  was  up  here  visitin'  last  spring  an'  the  fall 
before.  Mr.  Curtis  is  very  fond  of  both  of  'em." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard  that  his  son 
married  O'Dowd's  sister." 

"That's  right.  She's  a  widder  now.  Her  husband 
was  killed  in  the  war  between  Turkey  an'  them  other 
countries  four  er  five  years  ago." 

"Really?" 

"Yep.  Him  and  Mr.  O'Dowd — his  own  brothei- 
in-law,  y'  know — was  fightin'  on  the  side  of  the  Bool- 
garians  and  young  Ashley  Curtis  was  killed.  Mr. 
O'Dowd's  always  fightin'  whenever  they's  a  war  goin' 
on  anywheres.  I  cain't  understand  why  he  ain't  over 
in  Europe  now  helpin*  out  one  side  or  t'other." 

"Was  this  son  Mr.  Curtis's  only  child?" 

"So  fer  as  I  know.  He  left  three  little  kids.  They 
was  all  here  with  their  mother  jest  after  the  house 
was  finished.  Finest  children  I  ever " 

"They  will  probably  come  into  this  property  when 
Mr.  Curtis  dies,"  said  Barnes,  keeping  the  excite 
ment  out  of  his  voice. 

"More'n  likely." 

"Was  he  very  feeble  when  you  saw  him  last?" 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        161 

"I  ain't  seen  him  in  more'n  six  months.  He  was 
failin'  then.  That's  why  he  went  to  the  city." 

"Oh,  I  see.  You  did  not  see  him  when  he  arrived 
the  last  of  March?" 

"I  was  visitin'  my  sister  up  in  Hornville  when  he 
come  back  unexpected-like.  This  ijiot  Loeb  says 
he  wrote  me  to  meet  'em  at  Spanish  Falls  but  I 
never  got  the  letter.  Like  as  not  the  durn  fool  got 
the  address  wrong.  I  didn't  know  Mr.  Curtis  was 
home  till  I  come  back  from  my  sister's  three  days 
later.  The  wust  of  it  was  that  I  had  tooken  the 
automobile  with  me, — to  have  a  little  work  done  on 
her,  mind  ye, — an'  so  they  had  to  hire  a  Ford  to 
bring  him  up  from  the  Falls.  I  wouldn't  'a*  had  it 
happen  fer  fifty  dollars."  Peter's  tone  was  con 
vincingly  doleful. 

"And  he  has  been  confined  to  his  room  ever  since  ? 
Poor  old  fellow !  It's  hard,  isn't  it?" 

"It  sure  is.  Seems  like  he'll  never  be  able  to  walk 
ag'in.  I  was  talkin'  to  his  nurse  only  the  other 
day.  He  says  it's  a  hopeless  case." 

"Fortunately  his  sister  can  be  here  with  him." 

"By  gosh,  she  ain't  nothin'  like  him,"  confided 
Peter.  "She's  all  fuss  an'  feathers  an'  he  is  jest 
as  simple  as  you  er  me.  Nothin'  fluffy  about  him, 
I  c'n  tell  ye.  Course,  he  must  'a'  had  a  screw  loose 
some'eres  when  he  made  sich  a  botch  of  that  house 
up  there,  but  it's  his'n  an'  there  ain't  no  law  ag'in 
a  man  doin'  what  he  pleases  with  his  own  property." 
He  sighed  deeply.  "I'm  jest  as  well  pleased  to  go 
as  not,"  he  went  on.  "Mrs.  Collier's  got  a  lot  o' 


162  GREEN  FANCY 

money  of  her  own,  an'  she's  got  highfalutin'  New 
York  ideas  that  don't  seem  to  jibe  with  mine.  Used 
to  be  a  time  when  everything  was  nice  an'  peaceful 
up  here,  with  Sally  Perkins  doin'  the  cookin'  and 
her  daughter  waitin'  table,  but  'tain't  that  way  no 
more.  Got  to  have  a  man  cook  an'  men  waitresses, 
an'  a  butteler.  An'  it  goes  ag'in  the  grain  to  set 
down  to  a  meal  with  them  hayseeds  from  Italy.  You 
never  saw  sich  table  manners." 

He  rambled  on  for  some  minutes,  expanding  un 
der  the  soulful  influence  of  his  own  woes  and  the 
pleasure  of  having  a  visible  auditor  instead  of  the 
make-believe  ones  he  conjured  out  of  the  air  at 
times  when  privacy  afforded  him  the  opportunity 
to  lament  aloud. 

At  any  other  time  Barnes  would  have  been  bored 
by  such  confidences  as  these.  Now  he  was  eagerly 
drinking  in  every  word  that  Peter  uttered.  His 
lively  brain  was  putting  the  whole  situation  into  a 
nutshell.  Assuming  that  Peter  was  not  the  most 
guileful  person  on  earth,  it  was  quite  obvious  that 
he  not  only  was  in  ignorance  of  the  true  state  of 
affairs  at  Green  Fancy  but  that  he  was  to  be  ban 
ished  from  the  place  while  still  in  that  condition. 

Long  before  they  came  to  the  turnpike,  Barnes 
had  reduced  his  hundred  and  one  suppositions  to 
the  following  concrete  conclusion :  Green  Fancy  was 
no  longer  in  the  hands  of  its  original  owner  for 
the  good  and  sufficient  reason  that  Mr.  Curtis  was 
dead.  The  real  master  of  the  house  was  the  man 
known  as  Loeb.  Through  O'Dowd  he  had  leased  the 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY         163 

property  from  the  widowed  daughter-in-law,  and 
had  established  himself  there,  surrounded  by  trust 
worthy  henchmen,  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out 
some  dark  and  sinister  project. 

Putting  two  and  two  together,  it  was  easy  to 
determine  how  and  when  O'Dowd  decided  to  cast  his 
fortunes  with  those  of  the  leader  in  this  mysterious 
enterprise.  Their  intimacy  undoubtedly  grew  out 
of  association  at  the  time  of  the  Balkan  Wars. 
O'Dowd  was  a  soldier  of  fortune.  He  saw  vast 
opportunities  in  the  scheme  proposed  by  Loeb,  and 
fell  in  with  it,  whether  through  a  mistaken  idea  as 
to  its  real  character  or  an  active  desire  to  profit 
nefariously  time  only  would  tell.  Green  Fancy  af 
forded  an  excellent  base  for  operations.  O'Dowd 
induced  his  sister  to  lease  the  property  to  Loeb, — 
or  he  may  even  have  taken  it  himself.  He  had 
visited  Mr.  Curtis  on  at  least  two  occasions.  He 
knew  the  place  and  its  advantages.  The  woman 
known  as  Mrs.  Collier  was  not  the  sister  of  Curtis. 
She — but  here  Barnes  put  a  check  upon  his  specu 
lations.  He  appealed  to  Peter  once  more. 

"I  suppose  Mrs.  Collier  has  spent  a  great  deal 
of  time  up  here  with  her  brother." 

"First  time  she  was  ever  here,  so  far  as  I  know," 
said  Peter,  and  Barnes  promptly  took  up  his  weav 
ing  once  more. 

With  one  exception,  he  decided,  the  entire  com 
pany  at  Green  Fancy  was  involved  in  the  conspiracy. 
The  exception  was  Miss  Cameron.  It  was  quite 
clear  to  him  that  she  had  been  misled  or  betrayed 


164  GREEN  FANCY 

into  her  present  position;  that  a  trap  had  been  set 
for  her  and  she  had  walked  into  it  blindly,  trust 
ingly.  This  would  seem  to  establish,  beyond  ques 
tion,  that  her  capture  and  detention  was  vital  to 
the  interests  of  the  plotters;  otherwise  she  would 
not  have  been  lured  to  Green  Fancy  under  the  im 
pression  that  she  was  to  find  herself  among  friends 
and  supporters.  Supporters !  That  word  started 
a  new  train  of  thought.  He  could  hardly  wait  for 
the  story  that  was  to  fall  from  her  lips. 

Peter  swerved  into  the  main-road.  "Guess  I  c'n 
hit  her  up  a  little  now,"  he  said. 

"Take  it  slowly,  if  you  please,"  said  Barnes.  "I've 
had  one  experience  in  this  car,  going  a  mile  a  min 
ute,  and  I  didn't  enjoy  it." 

"You  never  been  in  this  car  before,"  corrected 
Peter. 

"Is  it  news  to  you?  Day  before  yesterday  I 
was  picked  up  at  this  very  corner  and  taken  to 
Hart's  Tavern  in  this  car.  The  day  Miss  Cameron 
arrived  and  the  car  failed  to  meet  her  at  Spanish 
Falls." 

"You  must  be  dreamin',"  said  Peter  slowly. 

"If  you  should  have  the  opportunity,  Peter,  just 
ask  Miss  Cameron,"  said  the  other.  "She  will  tell 
you  that  I'm  right." 

"Is  she  the  strange  young  lady  that  come  a 
day  er  so  ago?" 

"The  extremely  pretty  one,"  explained  Barnes. 

Peter  lapsed  into  silence.     It  was  evident  that  he 


PRISONER  OF  GREEN  FANCY        165 

considered  it  impossible  to  continue  the  discussion 
without  offending  his  passenger. 

"By  the  way,  Peter,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me 
that  I  may  be  able  to  give  you  a  job  in  case  you 
are  let  out  by  Mr.  Curtis.  I  can't  say  definitely 
until  I  have  communicated  with  my  sister,  who  has 
a  summer  home  in  the  Berkshires.  Don't  mention 
it  to  Mr.  Curtis.  I  wouldn't,  for  anything  in  the 
world,  have  him  think  that  I  was  trying  to  take  you 
away  from  him.  That  is  regarded  as  one  of  the 
lowest  tricks  a  man  can  be  guilty  of." 

"We  call  it  ornery  up  here,"  said  Peter.  "I'll 
be  much  obliged,  sir.  Course  I  won't  say  a  word. 
Will  I  find  you  at  the  Tavern  if  I  get  my  walkin' 
papers  soon?" 

"Yes.  Stop  in  to  see  me  to-morrow  if  you  hap 
pen  to  be  passing." 

There  was  additional  food  for  reflection  in  the 
fact  that  Peter  was  allowed  to  conduct  him  to  the 
Tavern  alone.  It  was  evident  that  not  only  was 
the  garrulous  native  ignorant  of  the  real  conditions 
at  Green  Fancy,  but  that  the  opportunity  was  de 
liberately  afforded  him  to  proclaim  his  private 
grievances  to  the  world.  After  all,  mused  Barnes, 
it  wasn't  a  bad  bit  of  diplomacy  at  that ! 

Barnes  said  good  night  to  the  man  and  entered 
the  Tavern  a  few  minutes  later.  Putnam  Jones  was 
behind  the  desk  and  facing  him  was  the  little  book- 
agent. 

"Hello,  stranger,"  greeted  the  landlord.  "Been 
sashaying  in  society,  hey?  Meet  my  friend  Mr. 


166  GREEN  FANCY 

Sprouse,  Mr.  Barnes.  Sic-em,  Sprouse!  Give  him 
the  Dickens !"  Mr.  Jones  laughed  loudly  at  his  own 
jest. 

Sprouse  shook  hands  with  his  victim. 

"I  was  just  saying  to  our  friend  Jones  here,  Mr. 
Barnes,  that  you  look  like  a  more  than  ordinarily 
intelligent  man  and  that  if  I  had  a  chance  to  buzz 
with  you  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  could  present 
a  proposition " 

"Sorry,  Mr.  Sprouse,  but  it  is  half-past  eleven 
o'clock,  and  I  am  dog-tired.  You  will  have  to  ex 
cuse  me." 

"To-morrow  morning  will  suit  me,"  said  Sprouse 
cheerfully,  "if  it  suits  you." 


CHAPTER  XI 

ME.    SPROUSE    ABANDONS    LITERATURE    AT    AN    EARLY 
HOUR    IN    THE    MORNING 

AFTER  thrashing  about  in  his  bed  for  seven 
sleepless  hours,  Barnes  arose  and  gloomily 
breakfasted  alone.  He  was  not  discouraged 
over  his  failure  to  arrive  at  anything  tangible  in  the 
shape  of  a  plan  of  action.  It  was  inconceivable  that 
he  should  not  be  able  in  very  short  order  to  bring 
about  the  release  of  the  fair  guest  of  Green  Fancy. 
He  realised  that  the  conspiracy  in  which  she  ap 
peared  to  be  a  vital  link  was  far-reaching  and  un 
doubtedly  pernicious  in  character.  There  was  not 
the  slightest  doubt  in  his  mind  that  international  af 
fairs  of  considerable  importance  were  involved  and 
that  the  agents  operating  at  Green  Fancy  were  un 
der  definite  orders. 

Mr.  Sprouse  came  into  the  dining-room  as  he 
was  taking  his  last  swallow  of  coffee. 

"Ah,  good  morning,"  was  the  bland  little  man's 
greeting.  "Up  with  the  lark,  I  see.  It  is  almost  a 
nocturnal  habit  with  me.  I  get  up  so  early  that  you 
might  say  it's  a  nightly  proceeding.  I'm  surprised 
to  see  you  circulating  at  seven  o'clock,  however. 
Mind  if  I  sit  down  here  and  have  my  eggs?"  He 

167 


168  GREEN  FANCY 

pulled  out  a  chair  opposite  Barnes  and  coolly  sat 
down  at  the  table. 

"You  can't  sell  me  a  set  of  Dickens  at  this  hour  of 
the  day,"  said  Barnes  sourly.  "Besides,  I've  finished 
my  breakfast.  Keep  your  seat."  He  started  to 
rise. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Sprouse  quietly.  Something  in 
the  man's  voice  and  manner  struck  Barnes  as  oddly 
compelling.  He  hesitated  a  second  and  then  resumed 
his  seat.  "Fve  been  investigating  you,  Mr.  Barnes," 
said  the  little  man,  unsmilingly.  "Don't  get  sore. 
It  may  gratify  you  to  know  that  I  am  satisfied  you 
are  all  right." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr. — Mr. ?"  began 

Barnes,  angrily. 

"Sprouse.  There  are  a  lot  of  things  that  you 
don't  know,  and  one  of  them  is  that  I  don't  sell  books 
for  a  living.  It's  something  of  a  side  line  with  me." 
He  leaned  forward.  "I  shall  be  quite  frank  with  you, 
sir.  I  am  a  secret  service  man.  Yesterday  I  went 
through  your  effects  upstairs,  and  last  night  I  took 
the  liberty  of  spying  upon  you,  so  to  speak,  while 
you  were  a  guest  at  Green  Fancy." 

"The  deuce  you  say !"  cried  Barnes,  staring. 

"We  will  get  right  down  to  tacks,"  said  Sprouse. 
"My  government, — which  isn't  yours,  by  the  way, — 
sent  me  up  here  five  weeks  ago  on  a  certain  under 
taking.  I  am  supposed  to  find  out  what  is  hatching 
up  at  Green  Fancy.  Having  satisfied  myself  that 
you  are  not  connected  with  the  gang  up  there,  I 
cheerfully  place  myself  in  your  hands,  Mr.  Barnes. 


SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE     169 

Just  a  moment,  please.  Bring  me  my  usual  break 
fast,  Miss  Tilly."  The  waitress  having  vanished 
in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen,  he  resumed.  "You 
were  at  Green  Fancy  last  night.  So  was  I.  You 
had  an  advantage  over  me,  however,  for  you  were 
on  the  inside  and  I  was  not." 

"Confound  your  impudence !    I " 

"One  of  my  purposes  in  revealing  myself  to  you, 
Mr.  Barnes,  is  to  warn  you  to  steer  clear  of  that 
crowd.  You  may  find  yourself  in  exceedingly  hot 
water  later  on  if  you  don't.  Another  purpose,  and 
the  real  one,  is  to  secure,  if  possible,  your  co-opera 
tion  in  beating  the  game  up  there.  You  can  help  me, 
and  in  helping  me  you  may  be  instrumental  in  right 
ing  one  of  the  gravest  wrongs  the  world  has  ever 
known.  Of  course,  I  am  advising  you  in  one  breath 
to  avoid  the  crowd  up  there  and  in  the  next  I  ask 
you  to  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  If  you  can  get  into 
the  good  graces  of But  there  is-  no  use  count 
ing  on  that.  They  are  too  clever.  There  is  too 
much  at  stake.  You  might  go  there  for  weeks 
and " 

"See  here,  Mr.  Sprouse  or  whatever  your  name  is, 
what  do  you  take  me  for?"  demanded  Barnes,  as 
suming  an  injured  air.  "You  have  the  most  monu 
mental  nerve  in " 

"Save  your  breath,  Mr.  Barnes.  We  may  just  as 
well  get  together  on  this  thing  first  as  last.  I've 
told  you  what  I  am, — and  almost  who, — and  I  know 
who  and  what  you  are.  You  don't  suppose  for  an 
instant  that  I,  with  a  record  for  having  made  fewer 


170  GREEN  FANCY 

blunders  than  any  man  in  the  service,  could  afford  to 
take  a  chance  with  you  unless  I  was  absolutely  sure 
of  my  ground,  do  you?  You  ask  me  what  I  take  you 
for.  Well,  I  take  you  for  a  meddler  who,  if  given  a 
free  rein,  may  upset  the  whole  pot  of  beans  and  work 
an  irreparable  injury  to  an  honest  cause." 

"A  meddler,  am  I?  Good  morning,  Mr.  Sprouts. 
I  fancy " 

"Sprouse.  But  the  name  doesn't  matter.  Keep 
your  seat.  You  may  learn  something  that  will  be 
of  untold  value  to  you.  I  used  the  word  meddler  in 
a  professional  sense.  You  are  inexperienced.  You 
would  behave  like  a  bull  in  a  china  shop.  I've  been 
working  for  nearly  six  months  on  a  job  that  you 
think  you  can  clear  up  in  a  couple  of  days.  Fools 
walk  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread.  You " 

"Will  you  be  good  enough,  Mr.  Sprouse,  to  tell 
me  just  what  you  are  trying  to  get  at?  Come  to  the 
point.  I  know  nothing  whatever  against  Mr.  Curtis 
and  his  friends.  You  assume  a  great  deal " 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Barnes.  I'll  admit  that  you 
don't  know  anything  against  them,  but  you  suspect 
a  whole  lot.  To  begin  with,  you  suspect  that  two 
men  were  shot  to  death  because  they  were  in  wrong 
with  some  one  at  Green  Fancy.  Now,  I  could  tell 
you  who  those  two  men  really  were  and  why  they 
were  shot.  But  I  sha'n't  do  anything  of  the  sort, — 
at  least  not  at  present.  I " 

"You  may  have  to  tell  all  this  to  the  State  if  I 
choose  to  go  to  the  authorities  with  the  statement 
3rou  have  just  made." 


SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE     171 

"I  expect,  at  the  proper  time,  to  tell  it  all  to  the 
State.  Are  you  willing  to  listen  to  what  I  have 
to  say,  or  are  you  going  to  stay  on  your  high-horse 
and  tell  me  to  go  to  the  devil?  You  interest  your 
self  in  this  affair  for  the  sake  of  a  little  pleasurable 
excitement.  I  am  in  it,  not  for  fun,  but  because  I 
am  employed  by  a  great  Power  to  risk  my  life  when 
ever  it  is  necessary.  This  happens  to  be  one  of  the 
times  when  it  is  vitally  necessary.  This  is  not  child's 
play  or  school-boy  romance  with  me.  It  is  business." 

Barnes  was  impressed.  "Perhaps  you  will  conde 
scend  to  tell  me  who  you  are,  Mr.  Sprouse.  I  am 
very  much  in  the  dark." 

"I  am  a  special  agent, — but  not  a  spy,  sir, — of  a 
government  that  is  friendly  to  yours.  I  am  known 
in  Washington.  My  credentials  are  not  to  be  ques 
tioned.  At  present  it  would  be  unwise  for  me  to 
reveal  the  name  of  my  government.  I  dare  say  if  I 
can  afford  to  trust  you,  Mr.  Barnes,  you  can  afford 
to  trust  me.  There  is  too  much  at  stake  for  me  to 
take  the  slightest  chance  with  any  man.  I  am  ready 
to  chance  you,  sir,  if  you  will  do  the  same  by  me." 

"Well,"  began  Barnes  deliberately,  "I  guess  you 
will  have  to  take  a  chance  with  me,  Mr.  Sprouse,  for 
I  refuse  to  commit  myself  until  I  know  exactly  what 
you  are  up  to." 

Sprouse  had  a  pleasant  word  or  two  for  Miss  Tilly 
as  she  placed  the  bacon  and  eggs  before  him  and 
poured  his  coffee. 

"Skip  along  now,  Miss  Tilly,"  he  said.     "I'm  go- 


"172  GREEN  FANCY 

ing  to  sell  Mr.  Barnes  a  whole  library  if  I  can  keep 
him  awake  long  enough." 

"I  can  heartily  recommend  the  Dickens  and 

Scott "  began  Miss  Tilly,  but  Sprouse  waved 

her  away. 

"In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  he,  salting 
his  eggs,  "you  have  been  thinking  that  I  was  sent 
down  from  Green  Fancy  to  spy  on  vou.  Isn't  that 
so?" 

"I  am  answering  no  questions,  Mr.  Sprouse." 

"You  were  wrong,"  said  Sprouse,  as  if  Barnes 
had  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "I  am  working  on 
my  own.  You  may  have  observed  that  I  did  not  ac 
company  the  sheriff's  posse  to-day.  I  was  up  in 
Hornville  getting  the  final  word  from  New  York 
that  you  were  on  the  level.  You  have  a  document 
from  the  police,  I  hear,  but  I  hadn't  seen  it.  Time 
is  precious.  I  telephoned  to  New  York.  Eleven 
dollars  and  sixty  cents.  You  were  under  suspicion 
until  I  hung  up  the  receiver,  I  may  say." 

"Jones  has  been  talking  to  you,"  said  Barnes. 
"But  you  said  a  moment  ago  that  you  were  up  at 
Green  Fancy  last  night.  Not  bv  invitation,  I  take 
it." 

"I  invited  myself,"  said  Sprouse  succinctly.  "Are 
you  inclined  to  favour  my  proposition?" 

"You  haven't  made  one." 

"By  suggestion,  Mr.  Barnes.  It  is  quite  impos 
sible  for  me  to  get  inside  that  house.  You  appear 
to  have  the  entree.  You  are  working  in  the  dark, 
guessing  at  everything.  I  am  guessing  at  nothing. 


SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE     173 

By  combining  forces  we  should  bring  this  thing  to 
a  head,  and " 

"Just  a  moment.  You  expect  me  to  abuse  the  hos 
pitality  of " 

"I  shall  have  to  speak  plainly,  I  see."  He  leaned 
forward,  fixing  Barnes  with  a  pair  of  steady,  earnest 
eyes.  "Six  months  ago  a  certain  royal  house  in 
Europe  was  despoiled  of  its  jewels,  its  privy  seal, 
its  most  precious  state  documents  and  its  charter. 
They  have  been  traced  to  the  United  States.  I  am 
here  to  recover  them.  That  is  the  foundation  of 
my  story,  Mr.  Barnes.  Shall  I  go  on?" 

"Can  you  not  start  at  the  beginning,  Mr.  Sprouse? 
What  was  it  that  led  up  to  this  amazing  theft?" 

"Without  divulging  the  name  of  the  house,  I  will 
say  that  its  sympathies  have  been  from  the  outset 
friendly  to  the  Entente  Allies, — especially  with 
France.  There  are  two  branches  of  the  ruling  fam 
ily,  one  in  power,  the  other  practically  in  exile.  The 
state  is  a  small  one,  but  its  integrity  is  of  the  high 
est.  Its  sons  and  daughters  have  married  into  the 
royal  families  of  nearly  all  of  the  great  nations  of 
the  continent.  The  present — or  I  should  say — the 
late  ruler,  for  he  died  on  a  field  of  battle  not  many 
months  ago,  had  no  direct  heir.  He  was  young  and 
unmarried.  I  am  not  permitted  to  state  with  what 
army  he  was  fighting,  nor  on  which  front  he  was 
killed.  It  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  his  little 
state  was  gobbled  up  by  the  Teutonic  Allies.  The 
branch  of  the  family  mentioned  as  being  in  exile 
lent  its  support  to  the  cause  of  Germany,  not  for 


174  GREEN  FANCY 

moral  reasons  but  in  the  hope  and  with  the  un 
derstanding,  I  am  to  believe,  that  the  crown-lands 
would  be  the  reward.  The  direct  heir  to  the  crown 
is  a  cousin  of  the  late  prince.  He  is  now  a  prisoner 
of  war  in  Austria.  Other  members  of  the  family  are 
held  by  the  Bulgarians  as  prisoners  of  war.  It  is 
not  stretching  the  imagination  very  far  to  picture 
them  as  already  dead  and  out  of  the  way.  At  the 
close  of  the  war,  if  Germany  is  victorious,  the  crown 
will  be  placed  upon  the  head  of  the  pretender  branch. 
Are  you  following  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  Barnes,  his  nerves  tingling.  He  was 
beginning  to  see  a  great  light. 

"Almost  under  the  noses  of  the  forces  left  by  the 
Teutonic  Allies  to  hold  the  invaded  territory,  the 
crown-jewels,  charter  and  so  forth,  heretofore  men 
tioned  as  they  say  in  legal  parlance,  were  surrepti 
tiously  removed  from  the  palace  and  spirited  away 
by  persons  loyal  to  the  ruling  branch  of  the  family. 
As  I  have  stated,  I  am  engaged  in  the  effort  to  re 
cover  them." 

"It  requires  but  little  intelligence  on  my  part  to 
reach  the  conclusion  that  you  are  employed  by  either 
the  German  or  Austrian  government,  Mr.  Sprouse. 
You  are  working  in  the  interests  of  the  usurping 
branch  of  the  family." 

<rWrong  again,  Mr.  Barnes, — but  naturally.  I 
am  in  the  service  of  a  country  violently  opposed  to 
the  German  cause.  My  country's  interest  in  the 

case  is well,  you  might  say  benevolent.  The 

missing  property  belongs  to  the  State  from  which 


SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE     175 

it  was  taken.  It  represents  a  great  deal  in  the  shape 
of  treasure,  to  say  nothing  of  its  importance  along 
other  lines.  To  restore  the  legitimate  branch  of 
the  family  to  power  after  the  war,  the  Entente  Al 
lies  must  be  in  possession  of  the  papers  and  crown- 
rights  that  these  misguided  enthusiasts  made  away 
with.  Of  course,  it  would  be  possible  to  do  it  with 
out  considering  the  demands  of  the  opposing  claim 
ants,  arbitrarily  kicking  them  out,  but  that  isn't 
the  way  my  government  does  business.  The  persons 
who  removed  this  treasure  from  the  state  vaults 
believed  that  they  were  acting  for  the  best  interests 
of  their  superiors.  In  a  sense,  they  were.  The  only 
fault  we  have  to  find  with  them  is  that  they  failed 
to  do  the  sensible  thing  by  delivering  their  booty 
into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  governments  friendly  to 
their  cause.  Instead  of  doing  so,  they  succeeded  in 
crossing  the  ocean,  conscientiously  believing  that 
America  was  the  safest  place  to  keep  the  treasure 
pending  developments  on  the  other  side. 

"Now  we  come  to  the  present  situation.  Some 
months  ago  a  member  of  the  aforesaid  royal  house 
arrived  in  this  country  by  way  of  Japan.  He  is  a 
distant  cousin  of  the  crown  and,  in  a  way,  remotely 
looked  upon  as  the  heir-apparent.  Later  on  he  se 
questered  himself  in  Canada.  Our  agents  in  Europe 
learned  but  recently  that  while  he  pretends  to  be 
loyal  to  the  ruling  house,  he  is  actually  scheming 
against  it.  I  have  been  ordered  to  run  him  to  earth, 
for  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  men  who 
secured  the  treasure  have  been  duped  into  regarding 


176  GREEN  FANCY 

him  as  an  avowed  champion  of  the  crown.  We  be 
lieve  that  if  we  find  this  man  we  will,  sooner  or  later, 
be  able  to  put  our  hands  on  the  missing  treasure. 
I  have  never  seen  the  man,  nor  a  portrait  of  him.  A 
fairly  adequate  description  has  been  sent  to  me,  how 
ever.  Now,  Mr.  Barnes,  without  telling  you  how 
I  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion,  I  am  prepared  to 
state  that  I  believe  this  man  to  be  at  Green  Fancy, 
and  that  in  time  the  loot, — to  use  a  harsh  word, — 
will  be  delivered  to  him  there.  I  am  here  to  get  it, 
one  way  or  another,  when  that  comes  to  pass." 

Barnes  had  not  taken  his  eyes  from  the  face  of 
the  little  man  during  this  recital.  He  was  rapidly 
changing  his  opinion  of  Sprouse.  There  was  sin 
cerity  in  the  voice  and  eyes  of  the  secret  agent. 

"What  led  you  to  suspect  that  he  is  at  Green 
Fancy,  Mr.  Sprouse?" 

"History.  It  is  known  that  this  Mr.  Curtis  has 
spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  country  alluded  to. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  son,  who  lived  in  London, 
had  rather  extensive  business  interests  there.  This 
son  was  killed  in  the  Balkan  War  several  years  ago. 
It  is  said  that  the  man  I  am  looking  for  was  a  friend 
of  young  Curtis,  who  married  a  Miss  O'Dowd  in 
London, — the  Honourable  Miss  O'Dowd,  daughter 
of  an  Irish  peer,  and  sister  of  the  chap  you  have 
met  at  Green  Fancy.  The  elder  Curtis  was  a  close 
and  intimate  friend  of  more  than  one  member  of  the 
royal  family.  Indeed,  he  is  known  to  have  been  a 
welcome  visitor  in  the  home  of  a  prominent  noble 
man,  once  high  in  the  counsels  of  State.  This  man 


SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE     177 

O'Dowd  is  also  a  friend  of  the  man  I  am  looking  for. 
He  went  through  the  Balkan  War  with  him.  After 
that  war,  O'Dowd  drifted  to  China,  hoping  no  doubt 
to  take  a  hand  in  the  revolution.  He  is  that  sort. 
Some  months  ago  he  came  to  the  United  States*  I 
forgot  to  mention  that  he  has  long  considered  this 
country  his  home,  although  born  in  Ireland.  About 
six  weeks  ago  a  former  equerry  in  the  royal  house 
hold  arrived  in  New  York.  Through  him  I  learned 
that  the  daughter  of  the  gentleman  in  whose  house 
the  senior  Mr.  Curtis  was  a  frequent  guest  had  been 
in  the  United  States  since  some  time  prior  to  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  She  was  visiting  friends  in 
the  States  and  has  been  unable  to  return  to  her  own 
land,  for  reasons  that  must  be  obvious.  I  may  as 
well  confess  that  her  father  was,  by  marriage,  an 
uncle  of  the  late  ruler. 

"Since  the  invasion  and  overthrow  of  her  country 
by  the  Teutonic  Allies,  she  has  been  endeavouring 
to  raise  money  here  for  the  purpose  of  equipping 
and  supporting  the  remnants  of  the  small  army  that 
fought  so  valiantly  in  defence  of  the  crown.  These 
men,  a  few  thousand  only,  are  at  present  interned 
in  a  neutral  country.  I  leave  you  to  guess  what 
will  happen  if  she  succeeds  in  supplying  them  with 
arms  and  ammunition.  Her  work  is  being  carried 
on  with  the  greatest  secrecy.  Word  of  it  came  to 
the  ears  of  her  country's  minister  in  Paris,  however, 
and  he  at  once  jumped  to  a  quick  but  very  natural 
conclusion.  She  has  been  looked  upon  in  court  cir 
cles  as  the  prospective  bride  of  the  adventurous 


178  GREEN  FANCY 

cousin  I  am  hunting  for.  The  embassy  has  con 
ceived  the  notion  that  she  may  know  a  great  deal 
about  the  present  whereabouts  of  the  missing  treas 
ure.  No  one  accuses  her  of  duplicity,  however.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  man  in  the  case  is  known  to 
have  pro-German  sympathies.  She  may  be  loyal 
to  the  crown,  but  there  is  a  decided  doubt  as  to  his 
loyalty.  Of  course,  we  have  no  means  of  knowing 
to  what  extent  she  has  confided  her  plans  to  him. 
We  do  not  even  know  that  she  is  aware  of  his  pres 
ence  in  this  country.  To  bring  the  story  to  a  close, 
I  was  instructed  to  keep  close  watch  on  the  man 
O'Dowd.  The  ex-attache  of  the  court  to  whom  I 
referred  a  moment  ago  set  out  to  find  the  young 
lady  in  question.  I  traced  O'Dowd  to  this  place.  I 
was  on  the  point  of  reporting  to  my  superiors  that 
he  was  in  no  way  associated  with  the  much-sought- 
after  crown-cousin,  and  that  Green  Fancy  was  as 
free  from  taint  as  the  village  chapel,  when  out  of 
a  clear  sky  and  almost  under  my  very  nose  two  men 
were  mysteriously  done  away  with  at  the  very  gates 
of  the  place.  In  fact,  so  positive  was  I  that  O'Dowd 
was  all  right,  that  I  had  started  for  Washington 
to  send  my  report  back  home  and  wait  for  instruc 
tions.  The  killing  of  those  two  men  changed  the 
aspect  completely.  You  will  certainly  agree  with 
me  after  I  have  explained  to  you  that  the  one  known 
as  Andrew  Roon  was  no  other  than  the  equerry  who 
had  undertaken  to  find  the — young  woman." 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Barnes. 

"He  came  up  here  because  he  had  reason  to  be- 


lieve  that  the — er — girl  was  either  at  Green  Fancy 
or  was  headed  this  way.  I  was  back  here  in  thirty- 
six  hours,  selling  Dickens.  I  saw  the  bodies  of  the 
two  men  at  the  county-seat,  and  recognised  both  of 
them,  despite  the  fact  that  they  had  cut  off  their 
beards.  Now,  they  could  not  have  been  recognised, 
Mr.  Barnes,  except  by  some  one  who  had  known 
them  all  his  life.  And  that  is  why  I  am  positive 
that  the  man  I  am  looking  for  is  up  at  Green  Fancy." 

Barnes  drew  a  long  breath.  His  mind  was  made 
up.  He  had  decided  to  pool  issues  with  the  secret 
agent,  but  not  until  he  was  convinced  that  the  result 
of  their  co-operation  would  in  no  way  inflict  a  hard 
ship  upon  the  young  woman  who  had  appealed  to 
him  for  help.  He  was  certain  that  she  was  the  fair 
propagandist  described  by  Sprouse. 

"Is  it  your  intention  to  lodge  him  in  jail  if  you 
succeed  in  capturing  your  man,  Mr.  Sprouse,  and 
to  apply  for  extradition  papers?"  he  asked. 

"I  can't  land  him  in  jail  unless  I  can  prove  that 
he  has  the  stolen  goods,  can  I?" 

"You  could  implicate  him  in  the  general  con 
spiracy." 

"That  is  for  others  to  say,  sir.  I  am  only  in 
structed  to  recover  the  treasure." 

"And  the  young  woman,  what  of  her?  She  would, 
in  any  case,  be  held  for  examination  and " 

"My  dear  sir,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  now  that 
she  is  a  loyal  subject  and,  far  from  being  in  bad 
grace  at  court,  is  an  object  of  extreme  solicitude 
to  the  ambassador.  Up  to  two  months  ago  she  was 


180  GREEN  FANCY 

in  touch  with  him.  From  what  I  can  gather,  she 
has  disappeared  completely.  Roon  was  sent  over 
here  for  the  sole  purpose  of  finding  her  and  induc 
ing  her  to  return  with  him  to  Paris." 

"And  to  take  the  treasure  with  her,  I  suppose," 
said  Barnes  drily. 

"Naturally." 

"Well,"  began  Barnes,  introducing  a  harsh  note 
into  his  voice,  "I  should  say  that  if  she  is  guilty  of 
receiving  this  stolen  property  she  ought  to  be  pun 
ished.  Jail  is  the  place  for  her,  Mr.  Sprouse." 

Sprouse  put  down  his  coffee  cup  rather  sud 
denly.  A  queer  pallor  came  into  his  face.  His 
voice  was  low  and  a  trifle  husky  when  he  made  reply. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,  sir." 

"Why,  may  I  ask?" 

"Because  it  puts  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  our 
working  together  in  this  matter." 

"You  mean  that  my  attitude  toward  her  is — er — 
not  in  keeping  with  your  ideas?" 

"You  do  not  understand  the  situation.  Haven't 
I  made  it  plain  to  you  that  she  is  innocent  of  any 
intent  to  do  wrong?" 

"You  have  said  so,  Mr.  Sprouse,  but  your  idea 
of  wrong  and  mine  may  not  jibe." 

"There  cannot  be  two  ways  of  looking  at  it,  sir," 
said  Sprouse,  after  a  moment.  "She  could  do  no 
wrong." 

Whereupon  Barnes  reached  his  hand  across  the 
table  and  laid  it  on  Sprouse's.  His  eyes  were  danc- 


SPROUSE  ABANDONS  LITERATURE     181 

"That's  just  what  I  want  to  be  sure  about,"  he 
said.  "It  was  my  way  of  finding  out  your  intentions 
concerning  her." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Sprouse,  star 
ing. 

"Come  with  me  to  my  room,"  said  Barnes,  sup 
pressing  his  excitement.  "I  think  I  can  tell  you 
where  she  is, — and  a  great  deal  more  that  you  ought 
to  know." 

In  the  little  room  upstairs,  he  told  the  whole  story 
to  Sprouse.  The  little  man  listened  without  so  much 
as  a  single  word  of  interruption  or  interrogation. 
His  sharp  eyes  began  to  glisten  as  the  story  pro 
gressed,  but  in  no  other  way  did  he  reveal  the  slight 
est  sign  of  emotion.  Somewhat  breathlessly  Barnes 
came  to  the  end. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Sprouse,  what  do  you  make  of 
it  all?"  he  inquired. 

Sprouse  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  suddenly  relax 
ing.  "I  am  completely  at  sea,"  he  said,  and  Barnes 
looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"By  Jove,  I  thought  it  would  all  be  as  clear  as 
day  to  you.  Here  is  your  man  and  also  your  woman, 
and  the  travelling  bag  full  of " 

"Right  you  are,"  interrupted  Sprouse.  "That  is 
all  simple  enough.  But,  my  dear  Barnes,  can  you 
tell  me  what  Mr.  Secretary  Loeb's  real  game  is? 
Why  has  he  established  himself  so  close  to  the  Ca 
nadian  line,  and  why  the  mobilisation?  I  refer  to 
his  army  of  huskies." 


182  GREEN  FANCY 

"Heirs-apparent  usually  have  some  sort  of  a  body 
guard,  don't  they?" 

Sprouse  was  staring  thoughtfully  at  the  ceiling. 
He  either  did  not  hear  the  remark  or  considered 
it  unworthy  of  notice.  When  he  finally  lowered  his 
eyes,  it  was  to  favour  Barnes  with  a  deep,  inscrutable 
smile. 

"I  dare  say  the  first  thing  for  me  to  do  is  to  ad 
vise  the  Canadian  authorities  to  keep  a  sharp  look 
out  along  the  border." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    FIEST    \VAYFAEEE    ACCEPTS    AN    INVITATION,    AND 
ME.  DILUNGFOED  BELABOUES  A  PROXY 

BARNES  insisted  that  the  first  thing  to  be  con 
sidered  was  the  release  of  Miss  Cameron.    He 
held  forth  at  some  length  on  the  urgency  of 
immediate  action. 

"If  we  can't  think  of  any  other  way  to  get  her 
out  of  this  devilish  predicament,  Sprouse,  I  shall  ap 
ply  to  Washington  for  help." 

"And  be  laughed  at,  my  friend,"  said  the  secret 
agent.  "In  the  first  place,  you  couldn't  give  a  sub 
stantial  reason  for  government  investigation ;  in  the 
second  place  the  government  wouldn't  act  until  it 
had  looked  very  thoroughly  into  the  case;  in  the 
third  place,  it  would  be  too  late  by  the  time  the 
government  felt  satisfied  to  act,  and  in  the  fourth 
place,  it  is  not  a  matter  for  the  government  to 
meddle  in  at  all." 

"Well,  something  has  to  be  done  at  once,"  said 
Barnes  doggedly.  "I  gave  her  my  promise.  She 
is  depending  on  me.  If  you  could  have  seen  the 
light  that  leaped  into  her  glorious  eyes  when  I " 

"Yes,  I  know.     I've  heard  she  is  quite  a  pretty 

girl.     You  needn't " 

183 


184  GREEN  FANCY 

"Quite  a  pretty  girl!"  exclaimed  Barnes.  "Why, 
she  is  the  loveliest  thing  that  God  ever  created.  She 
has  the  face  of " 

"I  am  beginning  to  understand  O'Dowd's  interest 
in  her,  Mr.  Barnes.  Your  enthusiasm  conveys  a 
great  deal  to  me.  Apparently  you  are  not  alone  in 
your  ecstasies." 

"You  mean  that  he  is — er What  the  dickens 

do  you  mean?" 

"He  has  probably  fallen  in  love  with  her  with  as 
little  difficulty  as  you  have  experienced,  Mr.  Barnes, 
and  almost  as  expeditiously.  He  has  seen  a  little 
more  of  her  than  you,  but " 

"Don't  talk  nonsense.     I'm  not  in  love  with  her." 

"Can  you  speak  with  equal  authority  for  Mr. 
O'Dowd?  He  is  a  very  susceptible  Irishman,  I  am 
told.  Sweethearts  in  a  great  many  ports, — and  still 
going  strong,  as  we  say  of  the  illustrious  Johnny 
Walker.  From  all  that  I  have  heard  of  her  amaz 
ing  beauty,  I  can't  blame  him  for  losing  his  heart 
to  her.  I  only  hope  he  loses  his  head  as  well." 

"I  don't  believe  he  will  get  much  encouragement 
from  her,  Mr.  Sprouse,"  said  Barnes  stiffly. 

"If  she  is  as  clever  as  I  think  she  is,  she  will  en 
courage  him  tremendously.  I  would  if  I  were  in 
her  place." 

"Umph !"  was  Barnes's  only  retort  to  that. 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  have  never  had  the  pleas 
ure  of  being  transformed  into  a  perfect  ass  by  the 
magic  of  a  perfect  woman,  Mr.  Barnes?  You've 
missed  a  great  deal.  It  happened  to  me  once,  and 


DILLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY     185 

came  near  to  upsetting  the  destinies  of  two  great 
nations.  Mr.  O'Dowd  is  only  human.  He  isn't  im 
mune." 

"I  catch  the  point,  Mr.  Sprouse,"  said  Barnes, 
rather  gloomily.  He  did  not  like  to  think  of  the 
methods  that  might  have  to  be  employed  in  the  sub 
jugation  of  Mr.  O'Dowd.  "There  is  a  rather  im 
portant  question  I'd  like  to  ask.  Is  she  even  re 
motely  eligible  to  her  country's  throne?" 

"Remotely,  yes,"  said  Sprouse  without  hesita 
tion. 

Barnes  waited,  but  nothing  further  was  volun 
teered. 

"So  remotely  that  she  could  marry  a  chap  like 
O'Dowd  without  giving  much  thought  to  future  com 
plications?"  he  ventured. 

"She'd  be  just  as  safe  in  marrying  O'Dowd  as  she 
would  be  in  marrying  you,"  was  Sprouse's  unsatis 
factory  response.  The  man's  brow  was  wrinkled 
in  thought.  "See  here,  Mr.  Barnes,  I  am  planning 
a  visit  to  Green  Fancy  to-night.  How  would  you 
like  to  accompany  me?" 

"I'd  like  nothing  better,"  said  Barnes,  with  en 
thusiasm. 

"Ever  been  shot  at?" 

"No." 

"Well,  you  are  likely  to  experience  the  novelty  if 
you  go  with  me.  Better  think  it  over." 

"Don't  worry  about  me.     I'll  go." 

"Will  you  agree  to  obey  instructions?  I  can't 
have  you  muddling  things  up,  you  know." 


186  GREEN  FANCY 

Barnes  thought  for  a  moment.  "Of  course,  if  the 
opportunity  offers  for  me  to  communicate  with  Miss 
Cameron,  I  don't  see  how  I " 

Sprouse  cut  him  off  sharply.  He  made  it  quite 
plain  to  the  would-be  cavalier  that  it  was  not  a 
sentimental  enterprise  they  were  to  undertake,  and 
that  he  would  have  to  govern  himself  accordingly. 

"The  grounds  are  carefully  guarded,"  said  Barnes, 
after  they  had  discussed  the  project  for  some  time. 
"Miss  Cameron  is  constantly  under  the  watchful 
eye  of  one  or  more  of  the  crowd." 

"I  know.  I  passed  a  couple  of  them  last  night," 
said  Sprouse  calmly.  "By  the  way,  don't  you  think 
it  would  be  very  polite  of  you  to  invite  the  Green 
Fancy  party  over  here  to  have  an  old-fashioned 
country  dinner  with  you  to-night?" 

"Good  Lord!  What  are  you  talking  about ?  They 
wouldn't  dream  of  accepting.  Besides,  I  thought 
you  wanted  me  to  go  with  you." 

"You  could  offer  them  diversion  in  the  shape  of 
a  theatrical  entertainment.  Your  friends,  the  Thes 
pians,  would  be  only  too  happy  to  disport  them 
selves  in  return  for  all  your " 

"It  would  be  useless,  Mr.  Sprouse.  They  will  not 
come." 

"I  am  perfectly  aware  of  that,  but  it  won't  do 
any  harm  to  ask  them,  will  it?" 

Barnes  chuckled.  "I  see.  Establishing  myself 
as  an  innocent  bystander,  eh?" 

"Get  O'Dowd  on  the  telephone  and  ask  him  if  they 
can  come,"  said  Sprouse.  "Incidentally,  you  might 


DILLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY     187 

test  his  love  for  Miss  Cameron  while  you  are  about 
it." 

"How?"  demanded  Barnes. 

"By  asking  him  to  call  her  to  the  telephone. 
Would  you  be  sure  to  recognise  her  voice?" 

"I'd  know  it  in  Babel,"  said  the  other  with  some 
fervour. 

"Well,  if  she  comes  to  the  'phone  and  speaks  to 
you  without  restraint,  we  may  be  reasonably  certain 
of  two  things:  that  O'Dowd  is  friendly  and  that  he 
is  able  to  fix  it  so  that  she  can  talk  to  you  without 
being  overheard  or  suspected  by  the  others.  It's 
worth  trying,  in  any  event." 

"But  there  is  Jones  to  consider.  The  telephone 
is  in  his  office.  What  will  he  think " 

"Jones  is  all  right,"  said  Sprouse  briefly.  "Come 
along.  You  can  call  up  from  my  room."  He  grinned 
slyly.  "Such  a  thing  as  tapping  the  wire,  you 
know." 

Sprouse  had  installed  a  telephone  in  his  room, 
carrying  a  wire  upstairs  from  an  attachment  made 
in  the  cellar  of  the  Tavern.  He  closed  the  door  to 
his  little  room  on  the  top  floor. 

"With  the  landlord's  approval,"  he  explained, 
pointing  to  the  instrument,  "but  unknown  to  the 
telephone  company,  you  may  be  sure.  Call  him  up 
about  half-past  ten.  O'Dowd  may  be  up  at  this 
unholy  hour,  but  not  she.  Now,  I  must  be  off  to 
discuss  literature  with  Mrs.  Jim  Conley.  I've  been 
working  on  her  for  two  weeks.  The  hardest  part 
of  my  job  is  to  keep  her  from  subscribing  for  a  set 


188  GREEN  FANCY 

of  Dickens.  She  has  been  on  the  point  of  signing 
the  contract  at  least  a  half  dozen  times,  and  I've 
been  fearfully  hard  put  to  head  her  off.  Conley's 
house  is  not  far  from  Green  Fancy.  Savvy?" 

Barnes,  left  to  his  own  devices,  wandered  from 
tap-room  to  porch,  from  porch  to  forge,  from  forge 
to  tap-room,  his  brain  far  more  active  than  his  legs, 
his  heart  as  heavy  as  lead  and  as  light  as  air  by 
turns.  More  than  once  he  felt  like  resorting  to  a 
well-known  expedient  to  determine  whether  he  was 
awake  or  dreaming.  Could  all  this  be  real? 

The  sky  was  overcast.  A  cold,  damp  wind  blew 
out  of  the  north.  There  was  a  feel  of  rain  in  the 
air,  an  ugly  greyness  in  the  road  that  stretched 
its  sharply  defined  course  through  the  green  fields 
that  stole  timorously  up  to  the  barren  forest  and 
stopped  short,  as  if  afraid  to  venture  farther. 

The  ring  of  the  hammer  on  the  anvil  lent  cheer 
to  the  otherwise  harsh  and  unlovely  mood  that  had 
fallen  upon  Nature  over  night.  It  sang  a  song  of 
defiance  that  even  the  mournful  chant  of  sheep  on 
the  distant  slopes  failed  to  subdue.  The  crowing  of 
a  belated  and  no  doubt  mortified  rooster,  the  bark 
ing  of  faraway  dogs,  the  sighing  of  journeying  winds, 
the  lugubrious  whistle  of  Mr.  Clarence  Dillingford, 
— all  of  these  added  something  to  the  dreariness  of 
the  morning. 

Mr.  Dillingford  was  engaged  in  lustily  beating  a 
rug  suspended  on  a  clothes  line  in  the  area  back 
of  the  stables.  His  tune  was  punctuated  by  stifled 
lapses  followed  almost  immediately  by  dull,  flat 


DILLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY    189 

whacks  upon  the  carpet.  From  the  end  of  the  porch 
he  was  visible  to  the  abstracted  Barnes. 

"Hi !"  he  shouted,  brandishing  his  flail  at  the  New 
Yorker.  "Want  a  job?" 

Barnes  looked  at  his  watch.  He  still  had  an  hour 
and  a  Ijalf  to  wait  before  he  could  call  up  O'Dowd. 
He  strolled  across  the  lot  and  joined  the  perspiring 
comedian. 

"You  seem  to  have  a  personal  grudge  against  that 
carpet,"  he  said,  moving  back  a  few  yards  as  Dilling- 
ford  laid  on  so  manfully  that  the  dust  arose  in 
clouds. 

"Every  time  I  land  I  say:  'Take  that,  darn 
you !'  And  it  pleases  me  to  imagine  that  with  every 
crack  Mr.  Putnam  Jones  lets  out  a  mighty  'Ouch!' 
Now  listen !  Didn't  that  sound  a  little  like  an  ouch?" 
Mr.  Dillingford  rubbed  a  spot  clean  on  the  handle 
of  the  flail  and  pressed  his  lips  to  it.  "Good  dog  I" 
he  murmured  tenderly.  "Bite  him!  (Whack!)  Now, 
bite  him  again !  (Whack!)  Once  more!  (Whack!) 
Good  dog!  Now,  go  lie  down  awhile  and  rest."  He 
tossed  the  flail  to  the  ground  and,  mopping  his  brow, 
turned  to  Barnes.  "If  you  want  a  real  treat,  go 
into  the  cellar  and  take  a  look  at  Bacon.  He  is 
churning  for  butter.  Got  a  gingham  apron  on  and 
thinks  he's  disguised.  He  can't  cuss  because  old 
Miss  Tilly  is  reading  the  first  act  of  a  play  she 
wrote  for  Julia  Marlowe  seven  or  eight  years  ago. 
Oh,  it's  a  great  life !" 

Barnes  sat  down  on  .the  edge  of  a  watering-trough 
and  began  filling  his  pipe. 


190  GREEN  FANCY 

"You  are  not  obliged  to  do  this  sort  of  work, 
Dillingford,"  he  said.  "It  would  give  me  pleasure 
to  stake " 

"Nix,"  said  Mr.  Dillingford  cheerily.  "Some  other 
time  I  may  need  help  more  than  I  do  now.  I'm 
getting  three  square  meals  and  plenty  of  fresh 
air  to  sleep  in  at  present,  and  work  doesn't  hurt  me 
physically.  It  does  hurt  my  pride,  but  that's  soon 
mended.  Have  you  seen  the  old  man  this  morn 
ing?" 

"Rushcroft?    No." 

"Well,  we're  to  be  on  our  way  next  week,  com 
pletely  reorganised,  rejuvenated  and  resplendent. 
Fixed  it  all  up  last  night.  Tommy  Gray  was  down 
here  with  two  weeks'  salary  as  chauffeur  and  a 
little  extra  he  picked  up  playing  poker  in  the  garage 
with  the  rubes.  Thirty-seven  dollars  in  real  money. 
He  has  decided  to  buy  a  quarter  interest  in  the 
company  and  act  as  manager.  Everything  looks 
rosy.  You  are  to  have  a  half  interest  and  the  old 
man  the  remaining  quarter.  He  telegraphed  last 
night  for  four  top-notch  people  to  join  us  at  Crown- 
dale  on  Tuesday  the  twenty-third.  We  open  that 
night  in  'The  Duke's  Revenge,'  our  best  piece.  It's 
the  only  play  we've  got  that  provides  me  with  a 
part  in  which  I  have  a  chance  to  show  what  I  can 
really  do.  As  soon  as  I  get  through  spanking  this 
carpet  I'll  run  upstairs  and  get  a  lot  of  clippings 
to  show  you  how  big  a  hit  I've  made  in  the  part. 
In  one  town  I  got  better  notices  than  the  star  him 
self,  and  seldom  did  I " 


DILLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY     191 

"Where  is  Crowndale?"  interrupted  Barnes,  a 
slight  frown  appearing  on  his  brow.  He  had  a  dis 
tinct  feeling  that  there  was  handwriting  on  the 
wall  and  that  it  was  put  there  purposely  for  him 
to  read. 

"About  five  hours'  walk  from  Hornville,"  said  Dil- 
lingford,  grinning.  "Twenty-five  cents  by  train. 
We  merely  resume  a  tour  interrupted  by  the  serious 
illness  of  Mr.  Rushcroft.  Rather  than  impose  upon 
our  audiences  by  inflicting  them  with  an  under 
study,  the  popular  star  temporarily  abandons  his 
tour.  We  ought  to  sell  out  in  Crowndale,  top  to 
bottom." 

The  amazing  optimism  of  Mr.  Dillingford  had  its 
effect  on  Barnes.  Somehow  the  day  grew  brighter, 
the  skies  less  drear,  a  subtle  warmth  crept  into  the 
air. 

"You  may  count  on  me,  Dillingford,  to  put  up 
my  half  interest  in  the  show.  I  will  have  a  fling  at 
it  a  couple  of  weeks  anyhow.  If  it  doesn't  pan  out! 
in  that  time, — well,  we  can  always  close,  can't  we?" 

"We  certainly  can,"  said  the  other,  with  convic 
tion.  "It  wouldn't  surprise  me  in  the  least,  how 
ever,  to  see  you  clean  up  a  very  tidy  bit  of  money, 
Mr.  Barnes.  Our  season  ordinarily  closes  toward 
the  end  of  June,  but  the  chances  are  we'll  stay  out 
all  summer  if  things  go  right.  Congratulations! 
Glad  to  see  you  in  the  profession."  He  shook  hands 
with  the  new  partner.  "Keep  your  seat!  Don't 
move.  I'll  shift  a  little  so's  the  wind  won't  blow 


192  GREEN  FANCY 

the  dust  in  your  eyes."  He  obligingly  ilid  so  and 
fell  upon  the  carpet  with  renewed  vigour. 

Barnes  was  restless.  He  chatted  with  the  rug- 
beater  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  sauntered  away. 
Miss  Thackeray  was  starting  off  for  a  walk  as  he 
came  around  to  the  front  of  the  Tavern.  She  wore 
a  rather  shabby  tailor-suit  of  blue  serge,  several 
seasons  out  of  fashion,  and  a  black  sailor  hat.  Her 
smile  was  bright  and  friendly  as  she  turned  in  re 
sponse  to  his  call.  As  he  drew  near  he  discovered 
that  her  lips  were  a  vivid,  startling  red,  her  eyes 
elaborately  made  up,  and  her  cheeks  the  colour  of 
bismuth.  She  was  returning  to  form,  thought  he, 
in  some  dismay. 

"Where  away?"  he  inquired. 

"Seeking  solitude,"  she  replied.  "I've  got  to  learn 
a  new  part  in  an  old  play."  She  flourished  the 
script  airily.  "I  have  just  accepted  an  engage 
ment  as  leading  lady." 

"Splendid!  I  am  delighted.  With  John  Drew, 
I  hope." 

"Nothing  like  that,"  she  said  loftily.  Then  her 
wide  mouth  spread  into  a  good-natured  grin,  re 
vealing  the  even  rows  of  teeth  that  were  her  par 
ticular  charm.  "I  am  going  out  with  the  great 
Lyndon  Rushcroft." 

"Good !  As  one  of  the  proprietors,  I  am  glad  to 
see  you  on  our — er — programme,  Miss  Thackeray." 

"Programme  is  good,"  she  mused.  "I've  been  on 
a  whole  lot  of  programmes  during  my  brief  career. 
What  I  want  to  get  on  some  time,  if  possible,  is  a 


D1LLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY     193 

pay-roll.  Wait!  Don't  say  it!  I  was  only  trying 
to  be  funny;  I  didn't  know  how  it  would  sound  or 
I  wouldn't  have  said  anything  so  stupid.  You've 
done  more  than  enough  for  us,  Mr.  Barnes.  Don't 
let  yourself  in  for  anything  more.  This  thing  will 
turn  out  like  all  the  rest  of  our  efforts.  We'll  col 
lapse  again  with  a  loud  report,  but  we're  used  to  it 
and  you're  not." 

"But  I'm  only  letting  myself  in  for  a  couple  of 
hundred,"  he  protested.  "I  can  stand  that  much 
of  a  loss  without  squirming." 

"You  know  your  own  business,"  she  said  shortly, 
almost  ungraciously.  "I'm  only  giving  you  a  little 
advice." 

"Advice  is  something  I  always  ignore,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "Experience  is  my  teacher." 

"Advice  is  cheaper  than  experience,  and  a  whole 
lot  easier  to  forget,"  she  said.  "My  grandfather 
advised  my  father  to  stay  in  the  hardware  business 
out  in  Indiana.  That  was  thirty  years  ago.  And 
here  we  are  to-day,"  she  concluded,  with  a  wide  sweep 
of  her  hand  that  took  in  the  forlorn  landscape.  She 
said  more  in  that  expressive  gesture  than  the  most 
accomplished  orator  could  have  put  into  words  in 
a  week. 

"But  there  is  always  a  to-morrow,  you  know." 

"There  may  be  a  to-morrow  for  me,  but  there  are 
nothing  but  yesterdays  left  for  dad.  All  of  his  to 
morrows  will  be  just  like  his  yesterdays.  They  will 
l>e  just  as  empty  of  success,  just  as  full  of  failure. 
There's  no  use  mincing  matters.  We  never  have 


194  GREEN  FANCY 

had  a  chance  to  go  broke  for  the  simple  reason 
that  we've  never  been  anything  else.  He  has  been 
starring  for  fifteen  years,  hitting  the  tanks  from 
one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other.  And  for  just 
that  length  of  time  he  has  been  mooning.  There's 
a  lot  of  difference  between  starring  and  mooning." 

"He  may  go  down  somewhat  regularly,  Miss 
Thackeray,  but  he  always  comes  up  again.  That's 
what  I  admire  in  him.  He  will  not  stay  down." 

Her  eyes  brightened.  "He  is  rather  a  brick,  isn't 
he?" 

"Rather !  And  so  are  you,  if  I  may  say  so.  You 
have  stuck  to  him  through  all " 

"Nothing  bricky  about  me,"  she  scoffed.  "I  am 
doing  it  because  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  get  rid 
of  the  notion  that  I  can  act.  God  knows  I  can't, 
and  so  does  father,  and  the  critics,  and  every  one 
in  the  profession,  but  I  think  I  can, — so  what  does 
it  all  amount  to?  Now,  that  will  be  enough  about 
me.  As  for  you,  Mr.  Barnes,  if  you  have  made  up 
your  mind  to  be  foolish,  far  be  it  from  me  to  head 
you  off.  You  will  drop  considerably  more  than  a 
couple  of  hundred,  let  me  tell  you,  and — but,  as  I 
said  before,  that  is  your  business.  I  must  be  off  now. 
It's  a  long  part  and  I'm  slow  study.  So  long, — and 
thanks!" 

He  sat  down  on  the  Tavern  steps  and  watched 
her  as  she  swung  off  down  the  road.  To  his  utter 
amazement,  when  she  reached  a  point  several  hun 
dred  yards  below  the  Tavern,  she  left  the  highway 
and,  gathering  up  her  skirts,  climbed  over  the  fence 


DILLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY     195 

into  the  narrow  meadow-land  that  formed  a  front 
age  at  the  bottom  of  the  Curtis  estate.  A  few  min 
utes  later  she  disappeared  among  the  trees  at  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  going  in  the  direction  of  Green 
Fancy.  He  had  followed  her  with  his  gaze  all  the 
way  across  that  narrow  strip  of  pasture.  When  she 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  forest,  she  stopped  and 
looked  back  at  the  Tavern.  Seeing  him  still  on  the 
steps,  ehe  waved  her  hand  at  him.  Then  she  was 
gone. 

"Where  ignorance  is  bliss,"  he  muttered  to  him 
self,  and  then  looked  at  his  watch.  Ten  minutes 
later  he  was  in  Sprouse's  room,  calling  for  Green 
Fancy  over  an  extension  wire  that  had  cost  the  com 
pany  nothing  and  yielded  nothing  in  return.  After 
some  delay,  O'Dowd's  mellow  voice  sang  out: 

"Hello!    How  are  you  this  morning?" 

"Grievously  lonesome,"  replied  Barnes,  and  wound 
up  a  doleful  account  of  himself  by  imploring  O'Dowd 
to  save  his  life  by  bringing  the  entire  Green  Fancy 
party  over  to  dinner  that  night. 

O'Dowd  was  heart-broken.  Personally  he  would 
go  to  any  extreme  to  save  so  valuable  a  life,  but  as 
for  the  rest  of  the  party,  they  begged  him  to  say 
they  were  sorry  to  hear  of  the  expected  death  of  so 
promising  a  chap  and  that,  while  they  couldn't  come 
to  his  party,  they  would  be  delighted  to  come  to  his 
funeral.  In  short,  it  would  be  impossible  for  them 
to  accept  his  kind  invitation.  The  Irishman  was 
so  gay  and  good-humoured  that  Barnes  took  hope. 


196  GREEN  FANCY 

"By  the  way,  O'Dowd,  I'd  like  to  speak  with  Miss 
Cameron  if  she  can  come  to  the  telephone." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then :  "Call  up 
at  twelve  o'clock  and  ask  for  me.  Good-bye." 

Promptly  on  the  stroke  of  twelve  Barnes  took 
down  the  receiver  and  called  for  Green  Fancy. 
O'Dowd  answered  almost  immediately. 

"I  warned  you  last  night,  Barnes,"  he  said  with 
out  preamble.  "I  told  you  to  keep  out  of  this. 
You  may  not  understand  the  situation  and  I  can 
not  enlighten  you,  but  I  will  say  this  much :  no  harm 
can  come  to  her  while  I'm  here  and  alive." 

"Can't  she  come  to  the  telephone?" 

"Won't  ye  take  my  word  for  it?  I  swear  by  all 
that's  holy  that  she'll  be  safe  while  I've " 

Barnes  was  cautious.  This  might  be  the  clever 
O'Dowd's  way  of  trapping  him  into  serious  admis 
sions. 

"I  don't  know  what  the  deuce  you  are  talking 
about,  O'Dowd,"  he  interrupted. 

"You  lie,  Barnes,"  said  the  other  promptly.  "Miss 
Cameron  is  here  at  my  elbow.  Will  you  have  her 
tell  you  that  you  lie?" 

"Let  her  say  anything  she  likes,"  said  Barnes 
quickly. 

"Don't  be  surprised  if  you  are  cut  off  suddenly. 

The  coast  is  clear  for  the  moment,  but Here, 

Miss  Cameron.  Careful,  now." 

Her  voice,  soft  and  clear  and  trembling  with  eager 
ness  caressed  Barnes's  eager  ear. 

"Mr.  O'Dowd  will  see  that  no  evil  befalls  me  here, 


DILLINGFORD  BELABOURS  A  PROXY     197 

but  he  refuses  to  help  me  to  get  away.  I  quite  un 
derstand  and  appreciate  his  position.  I  cannot  ask 
him  to  go  so  far  as  that.  Help  will  have  to  come 
from  the  outside.  It  will  be  dangerous — terribly 
dangerous,  I  fear.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  to 
take  the  risk " 

"Wait!    Is  O'Dowd  there?" 

"He  has  left  the  room.  He  does  not  want  to 
hear  what  I  say  to  you.  Don't  you  understand?" 

"Keeping  his  conscience  clear,  bless  his  soul,"  said 
Barnes.  "It  is  safe  for  you  to  speak  freely?" 

"I  think  so.  O'Dowd  suspected  us  last  night. 
He  came  to  me  this  morning  and  spoke  very  frankly 
about  it.  I  feel  quite  safe  with  him.  You  see,  I've 
known  him  for  a  long,  long  time.  He  did  not  know 
that  I  was  to  be  led  into  a  trap  like  this.  It  was 
not  until  I  had  been  here  for  several  hours  that 
he  realised  the  true  state  of  affairs.  I  cannot  tell 
you  any  more  at  present,  Mr.  Barnes.  So  great 
are  the  other  issues  at  stake  that  my  own  misfor 
tunes  are  as  nothing." 

"You  say  O'Dowd  will  not  assist  you  to  escape?" 

"He  urges  me  to  stay  here  and  take  my  chances. 
He  believes  that  everything  will  turn  out  well  for 
me  in  the  end,  but  I  am  frightened.  I  must  get 
away  from  this  place." 

"I'll  manage  it,  never  fear.  Keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip." 

"Wha— keep  a  what?" 

He  laughed.  "I  forgot  that  you  don't  under 
stand  our  language,  Miss  Cameron.  Have  courage, 


198  GREEN  FANCY 

is  what  I  should  have  said.  Are  you  prepared  to 
fly  at  a  moment's  notice?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open  for  the  next 
night  or  two.  Can  you  tell  me  where  your  room  is 
located?" 

"It  is  one  flight  up;  the  first  of  the  two  windows 
in  my  room  is  the  third  to  the  right  of  the  entrance. 
I  am  confident  that  some  one  is  stationed  below  my 
windows  all  night  long." 

"Are  you  alone  in  that  room?" 

"Yes.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van  Dyke  occupy  the  rooms 
on  my  left,  Mr.  De  Soto  is  on  my  right." 

"Where  does  Loeb  sleep?" 

"I  do  not  know."  He  detected  a  new  note  in  her 
voice,  and  at  once  put  it  down  to  fear. 

"You  still  insist  that  I  am  not  to  call  on  the 
authorities  for  help?" 

"Yes,  yes !  That  must  not  even  be  considered.  I 
have  not  only  myself  to  consider,  Mr.  Barnes.  I 
am  a  very  small  atom  in " 

"All  right!  We'll  get  along  without  them,"  he 
said  cheerily.  "Afterwards  we  will  discuss  the  im 
portance  of  atoms." 

"And  your  reward  as  well,  Mr.  Barnes,"  she  said. 
Her  voice  trailed  off  into  an  indistinct  murmur.  He 
heard  the  receiver  click  on  the  hook,  and,  after  call 
ing  "hello"  twice,  hung  up  his  own  with  a  sigh.  Evi 
dently  O'Dowd  had  warned  her  of  the  approach  of 
a  less  considerate  person  than  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    SECOND    WAYFARER    RECEIVES    TWO    VISITORS    AT 
MIDNIGHT 

THE  hour  for  the  midday  dinner  approached 
and  there  was  no  sign  of  Miss  Thackeray's 
return  from  the  woods.  Barnes  sat  for  two 
exasperating  hours  on  the  porch  and  listened  to 
the  confident,  flamboyant  oratory  of  Mr.  Lyndon 
Rushcroft.  His  gaze  constantly  swept  the  line  of 
trees,  and  there  were  times  when  he  failed  to  hear 
a  word  in  whole  sentences  that  rolled  from  the  lips 
of  the  actor.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  acutely  un 
easy,  when  suddenly  her  figure  issued  from  the  woods 
at  a  point  just  above  the  Tavern.  Instead  of  strik 
ing  out  at  once  across  the  meadow,  she  stopped  and 
for  as  long  as  three  or  four  minutes  appeared  to 
be  carrying  on  a  conversation  with  some  invisible 
person  among  the  trees  she  had  just  left  behind. 
Then  she  waved  her  hand  and  turned  her  steps  home 
ward.  A  bent  old  man  came  out  of  the  woods  and 
stood  watching  her  progress  across  the  open  stretch. 
She  had  less  than  two  hundred  yards  to  traverse 
between  the  woods  and  the  fence  opposite  the  Tavern. 
The  old  man  remained  where  he  was  until  she  reached 
the  fence  and  prepared  to  mount  it.  Then,  as  Barnes 

199 


200  GREEN  FANCY 

ran  down  from  the  porch  and  across  the  road  to 
assist  her  over  the  fence,  he  whirled  about  and  dis 
appeared. 

"Aha,"  said  Barnes  chidingly:  "politely  escorted 
from  the  grounds,  I  see.  If  you  had  asked  me  I 
could  have  told  you  that  trespassers  are  not  wel 
come." 

"He  is  a  nice  old  man.  I  chatted  with  him  for 
nearly  an  hour.  His  business  is  to  shoo  gipsy  moths 
away  from  the  trees,  or  something  like  that,  and  not 
to  shoo  nice,  tender  young  ladies  off  the  place." 

"Does  he  speak  English?" 

"Not  a  word.  He  speaks  nothing  but  the  most 
awful  American  I've  ever  heard.  He  has  lived  up 
there  on  the  mountain  for  sixty-nine  years,  and  he 
has  eleven  grown  children,  nineteen  grandchildren 
and  one  wife.  I'm  hungry." 

The  coroner's  inquest  over  the  bodies  of  Roon 
and  Paul  was  held  that  afternoon  at  St.  Elizabeth. 
Witnesses  from  Hart's  Tavern  were  among  those 
to  testify.  The  verdict  was  "Murder  at  the  hands 
of  parties  unknown." 

Sprouse  did  not  appear  at  the  Tavern  until  long 
after  nightfall.  His  protracted  absence  was  the 
source  of  grave  uneasiness  to  Barnes,  who,  having 
been  summoned  to  St.  Elizabeth,  returned  at  six 
o'clock  primed  and  eager  for  the  night's  adventure. 

The  secret  agent  listened  somewhat  indifferently 
to  the  latter's  account  of  his  telephonic  experiences. 
At  nine  o'clock  he  yawned  prodigiously  and  an 
nounced  that  he  was  going  to  bed,  much  to  the  dis- 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       201 

gust  of  Mr.  Rushcroft  and  greatly  to  the  surprise 
of  Mr.  Barnes,  who  followed  him  from  the  tap-room 
and  demanded  an  explanation. 

"People  usually  go  to  bed  at  night,  don't  they?" 
said  Sprouse  patiently.  "It  is  expected,  I  believe." 

"But,  my  dear  man,  we  are  to  undertake " 

"There  is  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't  go  to  bed 
like  sensible  beings,  Mr.  Barnes,  and  get  up  again 
when  we  feel  like  it,  is  there?  I  have  some  cause 
for  believing  that  one  of  those  chaps  in  there  is 
from  Green  Fancy.  Go  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock,  my 
friend,  and  put  out  your  light.  I  don't  insist  on 
your  taking  off  your  clothes,  however.  I  will  rap 
on  your  door  at  eleven  o'clock.  By  the  way,  don't 
forget  to  stick  your  revolver  in  your  pocket." 

A  few  minutes  before  eleven  there  came  a  gentle 
tapping  on  Barnes's  door.  He  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  opened  it,  presenting  himself  before  Sprouse 
fully  dressed  and,  as  the  secret  agent  said  later  on, 
"fit  to  kill." 

They  went  quietly  down  a  back  stairway  and  let 
themselves  out  into  the  stable-yard.  A  light,  cold 
drizzle  greeted  them  as  they  left  the  lee  of  the 
building. 

"A  fine  night  for  treason,  stratagems  and  spoils," 
said  Sprouse,  speaking  barely  above  a  whisper. 
"Follow  me  and  don't  ask  questions.  You  will  have 
to  talk  if  you  do,  and  talking  is  barred  for  the 
present." 

He  stopped  at  the  corner  of  the  inn  and  listened 
for  a  moment.  Then  he  darted  across  the  road  and 


202  GREEN  FANCY 

turned  to  the  left  in  the  ditch  that  bordered  it.  The 
night  was  as  black  as  pitch.  Barnes,  trusting  to 
the  little  man's  eyes,  and  hanging  close  upon  his  coat- 
tails,  followed  blindly  but  gallantly  in  the  tracks 
of  the  leader.  It  seemed  to  him  that  they  stumbled 
along  parallel  to  the  road  for  miles  before  Sprouse 
came  to  a  halt. 

"Climb  over  the  fence  here,  and  stick  close  to  me. 
Are  you  getting  your  cats'-eyes?" 

"Yes,  I  can  see  pretty  well  now.  But,  great  scot, 
why  should  we  walk  half  way  to  the  North  Pole, 
Sprouse,  before " 

"We  haven't  come  more  than  half  a  mile.  The 
Curtis  land  ends  here.  We  stay  close  to  this  fence 
till  we  reach  the  woods.  I  was  in  here  to-day  taking 
observations." 

"You  were?" 

"Yes.  Didn't  that  actress  friend  of  yours  men 
tion  meeting  me?" 

"No." 

"I  told  her  distinctly  that  I  had  eleven  children, 
nineteen " 

"By  Jove,  was  that  you?"  gasped  Barnes,  fall 
ing  in  beside  him. 

"If  it  were  light  enough  you  could  see  a  sign 
on  my  back  which  says  in  large  type,  'Silence,' ' 
said  the  other,  and  after  that  not  a  word  passed 
between  them  for  half  an  hour  or  more.  Then  it 
was  Sprouse  who  spoke.  "This  is  the  short  cut  to 
Green  Fancy,"  he  whispered,  laying  his  hand  on 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       203 

Barnes's  arm.  "We  save  four  or  five  miles,  coming 
this  way.  Do  you  know  where  we  are?" 

"I  haven't  the  remotest  idea." 

"About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  Curtis's  house. 
Are  you  all  right?" 

"Fine  as  a  fiddle,  except  for  a  barked  knee,  a 
skinned  elbow,  a  couple  of  more  or  less  busted  ribs, 
something  on  my  cheek  that  runs  hot, — yes,  I'm  all 
right." 

"Pretty  tough  going,"  said  Sprouse,  sympathet 
ically. 

"I've  banged  into  more  trees  than " 

"Sh !"  After  a  moment  of  silence,  intensified  by 
the  mournful  squawk  of  night-birds  and  the  chorus 
of  katydids,  Sprouse  whispered:  "Did  you  hear 
that?" 

Barnes  thrilled.  This  was  real  melodrama. 
"Hear  what?"  he  whispered  shrilly. 

"Listen !"    After  a  second  or  two :   "There !" 

"It's  a  woodpecker  hammering  on  the  limb  of 
a " 

"Woodpeckers  don't  hammer  at  midnight,  my  lad. 
Don't  stir!  Keep  your  ears  open." 

"You  bet  they're  open  all  right,"  whispered 
Barnes,  his  nerves  aquiver. 

Suddenly  the  sharp  tattoo  sounded  so  close  to  the 
spot  where  they  were  standing  that  Barnes  caught 
his  breath  and  with  difficulty  suppressed  an  exclama 
tion.  It  was  like  the  irregular  rattle  of  sticks  on 
the  rim  of  a  snare-drum.  The  tapping  ceased  and 


204  GREEN  FANCY 

a  moment  later  a  similar  sound,  barely  audible,  came 
out  of  the  distance. 

Sprouse  clutched  his  companion's  arm  and,  drop 
ping  to  his  knees  in  the  thick  underbrush,  pulled 
the  other  down  after  him. 

Presently  heavy  footsteps  approached.  An  un 
seen  pedestrian  passed  within  ten  yards  of  them. 
They  scarcely  breathed  until  the  sounds  passed  en 
tirely  out  of  hearing.  Sprouse  put  his  lips  close 
to  Barnes's  ear. 

"Telegraph,"  he  whispered.  "It's  a  system  they 
have  of  reporting  to  each  other.  There  are  two 
men  patrolling  the  grounds  near  the  house.  You 
see  what  we're  up  against,  Barnes.  Do  you  still 
want  to  go  on  with  it?  If  you  are  going  to  funk  it, 
say  so,  and  I'll  go  alone." 

"I'll  stay  by  you,"  replied  Barnes  sturdily. 

"In  about  ten  minutes  that  fellow  will  come  back 
this  way.  He  follows  the  little  path  that  winds 
down — but  never  mind.  Stay  where  you  are,  and 
don't  make  a  sound,  no  matter  what  happens.  Un 
derstand?  No  matter  what  happens!"  He  arose 
and  swiftly,  noiselessly,  stole  away  from  his  com 
panion's  side.  Barnes,  his  eyes  accustomed  to  the 
night,  either  saw  or  imagined  that  he  saw,  the  shad 
owy  hulk  press  forward  for  a  dozen  paces  and  then 
apparently  dissolve  in  black  air. 

Several  minutes  went  by.  There  was  not  a  sound 
save  the  restless  patter  of  rain  in  the  tree  tops.  At 
last  the  faraway  thud  of  footsteps  came  to  the  ears 
of  the  tense  listener.  They  drew  nearer,  louder, 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       205 

and  once  more  seemed  to  be  approaching  the  very 
spot  where  he  crouched.  He  had  the  uncanny  feel 
ing  that  in  a  moment  or  two  more  the  foot  of  the 
sentinel  would  come  in  contact  with  his  rigid  body, 
and  that  he  would  not  have  the  power  to  suppress 
the  yell  of  dismay  that 

Then  came  the  sound  of  a  dull,  heavy  blow,  a 
hoarse  gasp,  a  momentary  commotion  in  the  shrub 
bery,  and — again  silence.  Barnes's  blood  ran  cold. 
He  waited  for  the  next  footfall  of  the  passing  man. 
It  never  came. 

A  sharp  whisper  reached  his  ears.  "Come  here 
—quick!" 

He  floundered  through  the  brush  and  almost  fell 
prostrate  over  the  kneeling  figure  of  a  man. 

"Take  care!     Lend  a  hand,"  whispered  Sprouse. 

Dropping  to  his  knees,  Barnes  felt  for  and  touched 
wet,  coarse  garments,  and  gasped: 

"My  God!    Have  you— killed  him?" 

"Temporarily,"  said  Sprouse,  between  his  teeth, 
"Here,  unwind  the  rope  I've  got  around  my  waist. 
Take  the  end — here.  Got  a  knife?  Cut  off  a  sec 
tion  about  three  feet  long.  I'll  get  the  gag  in  his 
mouth  while  you're  doing  it.  Hangmen  always  carry 
their  own  ropes,"  he  concluded,  with  grewsome 
humour.  "Got  it  cut?  Well,  cut  two  more  sec 
tions,  same  length." 

With  incredible  swiftness  the  two  of  them  bound 
the  feet,  knees  and  arms  of  the  inert  victim. 

"I  came  prepared,"  said  Sprouse,  so  calmly  that 
Barnes  marvelled  at  the  iron  nerve  of  the  man. 


206  GREEN  FANCY 

"Thirty  feet  of  hemp  clothes-line  for  a  belt,  prop 
erly  prepared  gags, — and  a  sound  silencer." 

"By  heaven,  Sprouse,  I — I  believe  he's  dead," 
groaned  Barnes.  "We — we  haven't  any  right  to  kill 


"He'll  be  as  much  alive  but  not  as  lively  as  a 
cricket  in  ten  minutes,"  said  the  other.  "Grab  his 
heels.  We'll  chuck  him  over  into  the  bushes  where 
he'll  be  out  of  harm's  way.  We  may  have  to  run 
like  hell  down  this  path,  partner,  and  I'd — I'd  hate 
to  step  on  his  face." 

"  'Gad,  you're  a  cold-blooded " 

"Don't  be  finicky,"  snapped  Sprouse.  "It  wasn't 
much  of  a  crack,  and  it  was  necessary.  There! 
You're  safe  for  the  time  being,"  he  grunted  as  they 
laid  the  limp  body  down  in  the  brush  at  the  side  of 
the  narrow  trail.  Straightening  up,  with  a  sigh  of 
satisfaction,  he  laid  his  hand  on  Barnes's  shoulder. 
"We've  just  got  to  go  through  with  it  now,  Barnes. 
We'll  never  get  another  chance.  Putting  that  fel 
low  out  of  business  queers  us  forever  afterward." 
He  dropped  to  his  knees  and  began  searching  over 
the  ground  with  his  hands.  "Here  it  is.  You  can't 
see  it,  of  course,  so  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  A  nice 
little  block  of  sandal-wood.  I've  already  got  his  nice 
little  hammer,  so  we'll  see  what  we  can  raise  in  the 
way  of  wireless  chit-chat." 

Without  the  slightest  hesitation,  he  struck  a  suc 
cession  of  quick,  confident  blows  upon  the  block  of 
wood. 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       207 

"He  always  signals  at  this  spot  going  out  and 
again  coming  in,"  he  said  softly. 

"How  the  deuce  did  you  find  out " 

"There!  Hear  that?  He  says, 'All's  well,'— same 
as  I  said,  or  something  equivalent  to  it.  I've  been  up 
here  quite  a  bit,  Barnes,  making  a  study  of  night- 
hawks,  their  habits  and  their  language." 

"By  gad,  you  are  a  wonder !" 

"Wait  till  to-morrow  before  you  say  that,"  re 
plied  Sprouse,  sententiously.  "Come  along  now. 
Stick  to  the  trail.  We've  got  to  land  the  other  one." 
For  five  or  six  minutes  they  moved  forward. 
Barnes,  following  instructions,  trod  heavily  and  with 
out  any  attempt  at  caution.  His  companion,  on 
the  other  hand,  moved  with  incredible  stealthiness. 
A  listener  would  have  said  that  but  one  man  walked 
on  that  lonely  trail. 

Turning  sharply  to  the  right,  Sprouse  guided  his 
companion  through  the  brush  for  some  distance, 
and  once  more  came  to  a  halt.  Again  he  stole  on 
ahead,  and,  as  before,  the  slow,  confident,  even  care 
less  progress  of  a  man  ceased  as  abruptly  as  that 
of  the  comrade  who  lay  helpless  in  the  thicket  be 
low. 

"There  are  others,  no  doubt,  but  they  patrol  the 
outposts,  so  to  speak,"  panted  Sprouse  as  they 
bound  and  trussed  the  second  victim.  "We  haven't 
much  to  fear  from  them.  Come  on.  We  are  within 
a  hundred  feet  of  the  house.  Softly  now,  or " 

Barnes  laid  a  firm,  detaining  hand  on  the  man's 
shoulder. 


208  GREEN  FANCY 

"See  here,  Sprouse,"  he  whispered,  "it's  all  very 
well  for  you,  knocking  men  over  like  this,  but  just 
what  is  your  object?  What  does  all  this  lead  up 
to?  We  can't  go  on  forever  slugging  and  binding 
these  fellows.  There  is  a  house  full  of  them  up 
there.  What  do  we  gain  by  putting  a  few  men  out 
of  business?" 

Sprouse  broke  in,  and  there  was  not  the  slightest 
trace  of  emotion  in  his  whisper. 

"Quite  right.  You  ought  to  know.  I  suppose 
you  thought  I  was  bringing  you  up  here  for  a  Romeo 
and  Juliet  tete-a-tete  with  the  beautiful  Miss  Cam 
eron, — and  for  nothing  else.  Well,  in  a  way,  you 
are  right.  But,  first  of  all,  my  business  is  to  re 
cover  the  crown  jewels  and  parchments.  I  am  going 
into  that  house  and  take  them  away  from  the  man 
you  know  as  Loeb, — if  he  has  them.  If  he  hasn't 
them,  my  work  here  is  a  failure." 

"Going  into  the  house?"  gasped  Barnes.  "Why, 
my  God,  man,  that  is  impossible.  You  cannot  get 
into  the  house,  and  if  you  did,  you'd  never  come 
out  alive.  You  would  be  shot  down  as  an  ordinary 
burglar  and — the  law  would  justify  them  for  killing 
you.  I  must  insist " 

"I  am  not  asking  you  to  go  into  the  house,  my 
friend.  I  shall  go  alone,"  said  Sprouse  coolly. 

"On  the  other  hand,  I  came  up  here  to  rescue  a 
helpless, " 

"Oh,  we  will  attend  to  that  also,"  said  Sprouse. 
"The  treasure  comes  first,  however.  Has  it  not  oc 
curred  to  you  that  she  will  refuse  to  be  rescued  un- 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       209 

less  the  jewels  can  be  brought  away  with  her?  She 
would  die  before  she  would  leave  them  behind.  No, 
Barnes,  I  must  get  the  booty  first,  then  the  beauty." 

"But  you  can  do  nothing  without  her  advice  and 
assistance,"  protested  Barnes. 

"That  is  just  why  I  brought  you  along  with  me. 
She  does  not  know  me.  She  would  not  trust  me. 
You  are  to  introduce  me." 

"Well,  by  gad,  you've  got  a  nerve !" 

"Keep  cool !  It's  the  only  way.  Now,  listen.  She 
has  designated  her  room  and  the  windows  that  are 
hers.  She  is  lying  awake  up  there  now,  take  it  from 
me,  hoping  that  you  will  come  to-night.  Do  you  un 
derstand  ?  If  not  to-night,  to-morrow  night.  I  shall 
lead  you  directly  to  her  window.  And  then  comes 
the  only  chance  we  take, — the  only  instance  where 
we  gamble.  There  will  not  be  a  light  in  her  win 
dow,  but  that  won't  make  any  difference.  This  nobby 
cane  I'm  carrying  is  in  reality  a  collapsible  fishing- 
rod.  Bought  it  to-day  in  anticipation  of  some  good 
fishing.  First,  we  use  it  to  tap  gently  on  her  win 
dow  ledge,  or  shade,  or  whatever  we  find.  Then, 
you  pass  up  a  little  note  to  her.  Here  is  paper  and 
pencil.  Say  that  you  are  below  her  window  and — all 
ready  to  take  her  away.  Say  that  the  guards  have 
been  disposed  of,  and  that  the  coast  is  clear.  Tell 
her  to  lower  her  valuables,  some  clothes,  et  cetera, 
from  the  window  by  means  of  the  rope  we'll  pass 
up  on  the  pole.  There  is  a  remote  possibility  that 
she  may  have  the  jewels  in  her  room.  For  certain 
reasons  they  may  have  permitted  her  to  retain  them. 


210  GREEN  FANCY 

If  such  is  the  case,  our  work  is  easy.  If  they  have 
taken  them  away  from  her,  she'll  say  so,  some  way 
or  another, — and  she  will  not  leave!  Now, "I've  had 
a  good  look  at  the  front  of  that  house.  It  is  cov 
ered  with  a  lattice  work  and  huge  vines.  I  can  shin 
up  like  a  squirrel  and  go  through  her  room  to 
the " 

"Are  you  crazy,  Sprouse?" 

"I  am  the  sanest  person  you've  ever  met,  Mr. 
Barnes.  The  chance  we  take  is  that  she  may  not 
be  alone  in  the  room.  But,  nothing  risked,  nothing 
gained." 

"You  take  your  life  in  your  hands  and " 

"Don't  worry  about  that,  my  lad." 

" — and  you  also  place  Miss  Cameron  in  even 
graver  peril  than " 

"See  here,"  said  Sprouse  shortly,  "I  am  not  risk 
ing  my  life  for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  I  am  risking 
it  for  her,  bear  that  in  mind, — for  her  and  her  peo 
ple.  And  if  I  am  killed,  they  won't  even  say  'Well- 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant.'  So,  let's  not  argue 
the  point.  Are  you  going  to  stand  by  me  or — 
back  out?" 

Barnes  was  shamed.  "I'll  stand  by  you,"  he  said, 
and  they  stole  forward. 

The  utmost  caution  was  observed  in  the  approach 
to  the  house  through  the  thin,  winding  paths  that 
Barnes  remembered  from  an  earlier  visit.  They 
crept  on  all  fours  over  the  last  fifty  feet  that  in 
tervened,  and  each  held  a  revolver  in  readiness  for 
a  surprise  attack. 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT 

There  were  no  lights  visible.  The  house  was  even 
darker  than  the  night  itself;  it  was  vaguely  out 
lined  by  a  deeper  shade  of  black.  The  ground  be 
ing  wet,  the  carpet  of  dead  leaves  gave  out  no 
rustling  sound  as  the  two  men  crept  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  top-heavy  shadow  that  seemed  ready 
to  lurch  forward  and  swallow  them  whole. 

At  last  they  were  within  a  few  yards  of  the  en 
trance  and  at  the  edge  of  a  small  space  that  had 
been  cleared  of  shrubbery.  Here  Sprouse  stopped 
and  began  to  adjust  the  sections  of  his  fishing-rod. 

"Write,"  he  whispered.  "There  is  a  faint  glow  of 
light  up  there  to  the  right.  The  third  window,  did 
you  say?  Well,  that's  about  where  I  should  locate 
it.  She  has  opened  the  window  shutters.  The  light 
comes  into  the  room  through  the  transom  over  the 
door,  I  would  say.  There  is  probably  a  light  in  the 
hall  outside." 

A  few  minutes  later,  they  crept  across  the  open 
space  and  huddled  against  the  vine-covered  fa£ade 
of  Green  Fancy.  Barnes  was  singularly  composed 
and  free  from  nervousness,  despite  the  fact  that  his 
whole  being  tingled  with  excitement.  What  was  to 
transpire  within  the  next  few  minutes?  What  was 
to  be  the  end  of  this  daring  exploit?  Was  he  to 
see  her,  to  touch  her  hand,  to  carry  her  off  into 
that  dungeon-like  forest, — and  what  was  this  new, 
exquisite  thrill  that  ran  through  his  veins? 

The  tiny,  metallic  tip  of  the  rod,  held  in  the  up- 
stretched  hand  of  Barnes,  much  the  taller  of  the 
two  men,  barely  reached  the  window  ledge.  He 


GREEN  FANCY 

tapped  gently,  persistently  on  the  hard  surface. 
Obeying  the  hand-pressure  of  his  companion  he  de 
sisted  at  intervals,  resuming  the  operation  after  a 
moment  of  waiting.  Just  as  they  were  beginning  to 
think  that  she  was  asleep  and  that  their  efforts  were 
in  vain,  their  straining  eyes  made  out  a  shadowy 
object  projecting  slightly  beyond  the  sill.  Barnes 
felt  Sprouse's  grip  on  his  shoulder  tighten,  and  the 
quick  intake  of  his  breath  was  evidence  of  the  little 
secret  agent's  relief. 

After  a  moment  or  two  of  suspense,  Barnes  ex 
perienced  a  peculiar,  almost  electric  shock.  Some 
one  had  seized  the  tip  of  the  rod;  it  stiffened  sud 
denly,  the  vibrations  due  to  its  flexibility  ceasing. 
He  felt  a  gentle  tugging  and  wrenching;  down  the 
slender  rod  ran  a  delicate  shiver  that  seemed  al 
most  magnetic  as  it  was  communicated  to  his  hand. 
He  knew  what  was  happening.  Some  one  was  unty 
ing  the  bit  of  paper  he  had  fastened  to  the  rod, 
and  with  fingers  that  shook  and  were  clumsy  with 
eagerness. 

The  tension  relaxed  a  moment  later;  the  rod  was 
free,  and  the  shadowy  object  was  gone  from  the  win 
dow  above.  She  had  withdrawn  to  the  far  side  of 
the  room  for  the  purpose  of  reading  the  message 
so  marvellously  delivered  out  of  the  night.  He  fan 
cied  her  mounting  a  chair  so  that  she  could  read 
by  the  dim  light  from  the  transom. 

He  had  written:  "I  am  outside  with  a  trusted 
friend,  ready  to  do  your  bidding.  Two  of  the  guards 
are  safely  bound  and  out  of  the  way.  Now  is  our 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT 

chance.  We  will  never  have  another.  If  you  are 
prepared  to  come  with  me  now,  write  me  a  word 
or  two  and  drop  it  to  the  ground.  I  will  pass  up 
a  rope  to  you  and  you  may  lower  anything  you 
wish  to  carry  away  with  you.  But  be  exceedingly 
careful.  Take  time.  Don't  hurry  a  single  one  of 
your  movements."  He  signed  it  with  a  large  B. 

It  seemed  an  hour  before  their  eyes  distinguished 
the  shadowy  head  above.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  but 
a  few  minutes  had  passed.  During  the  wait,  Sprouse 
had  noiselessly  removed  his  coat,  a  proceeding  that 
puzzled  Barnes.  Something  light  fell  to  the  ground. 
It  was  Sprouse  who  stooped  and  searched  for  it  in 
the  grass.  When  he  resumed  an  upright  posture,  he 
put  his  lips  close  to  Barnes's  ear  and  whispered: 

"I  will  put  my  coat  over  your  head.  Here  is  a  lit 
tle  electric  torch.  Don't  flash  it  until  I  am  sure 
the  coat  is  arranged  so  that  you  can  do  so  with 
out  a  gleam  of  light  getting  out  from  under."  He 
pressed  the  torch  and  a  bit  of  closely  folded  paper 
in  the  other's  hand,  and  carefully  draped  the  coat 
over  his  head.  Barnes  was  once  more  filled  with 
admiration  for  the  little  man's  amazing  resource 
fulness. 

He  read :  "Thank  God !  I  was  afraid  you  would 
wait  until  to-morrow  night.  Then  it  would  have 
been  too  late.  I  must  get  away  to-night  but  I  can 
not  leave — I  dare  not  leave  without  something  that 
is  concealed  in  another  part  of  the  house.  I  do 
not  know  how  to  secure  it.  My  door  is  locked  from 


GREEN  FANCY 

the  outside.  What  am  I  to  do?  I  would  rather 
die  than  to  go  away  without  it." 

Barnes  whispered  in  Sprouse's  ear.  The  latter 
replied  at  once:  "Write  her  that  I  will  climb  up  to 
her  window,  and,  with  God's  help  and  her  directions, 
manage  to  find  the  thing  she  wants." 

Barnes  wrote  as  directed  and  passed  the  missive 
aloft.  In  a  little  while  a  reply  came  down.  Resort 
ing  to  the  previous  expedient,  he  read: 

"It  is  impossible.  The  study  is  under  bolt  and 
key  and  no  one  can  enter.  I  do  not  know  what  I 
am  to  do.  I  dare  not  stay  here  and  I  dare  not  go. 
Leave  me  to  my  fate.  Do  not  run  any  further  risk. 
I  cannot  allow  you  to  endanger  your  life  for  me. 
I  shall  never  forget  you,  and  I  shall  always  be  grate 
ful.  You  are  a  noble  gentleman  and  I  a  foolish, 
stupid — oh,  such  a  stupid! — girl." 

That  was  enough  for  Barnes.  It  needed  but  that 
discouraging  cry  to  rouse  his  fighting  spirit  to  a 
pitch  that  bordered  on  recklessness.  His  courage 
took  fire,  and  blazed  up  in  one  mighty  flame.  Noth 
ing, — nothing  could  stop  him  now. 

Hastily  he  wrote :  "If  you  do  not  come  at  once, 
we  will  force  our  way  into  the  house  and  fight  it 
out  with  them  all.  My  friend  is  coming  up  the 
vines.  Let  him  enter  the  window.  Tell  him  where 
to  go  and  he  will  do  the  rest.  He  is  a  miracle  man. 
Nothing  is  impossible  to  him.  If  he  does  not  return 
in  ten  minutes,  I  shall  follow." 

There  was  no  response  to  this.  The  head  reap 
peared  in  the  window,  but  no  word  came  down. 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       215 

Sprouse  whispered:  "I  am  going  up.  She  will 
not  commit  you  to  anything.  We  have  to  take  the 
matter  into  our  own  hands.  Stay  here.  If  you  hear 
a  commotion  in  the  house,  run  for  it.  Don't  wait  for 
me.  I'll  probably  be  done  for." 

"I'll  do  just  as  I  damn  please  about  running," 
said  Barnes,  and  there  was  a  deep  thrill  in  his  whis 
per.  "Good  luck.  God  help  you  if  they  catch  you." 

"Not  even  He  could  help  me  then.  Good-bye.  I'll 
do  what  I  can  to  induce  her  to  drop  out  of  the  win 
dow  if  anything  goes  wrong  with  me  down  stairs." 

He  searched  among  the  leaves  and  found  the  thick 
vine.  A  moment  later  he  was  silently  scaling  the 
wall  of  the  house,  feeling  his  way  carefully,  testing 
every  precarious  foothold,  dragging  himself  pain 
fully  upwards  by  means  of  the  most  uncanny,  animal- 
like  strength  and  stealth. 

Barnes  could  not  recall  drawing  a  single  breath 
from  the  instant  the  man  left  his  side  until  the 
faintly  luminous  square  above  his  head  was  obliter 
ated  by  the  black  of  his  body  as  it  wriggled  over  the 
ledge. 

He  was  never  to  forget  the  almost  interminable 
age  that  he  spent,  flattened  against  the  vines,  wait 
ing  for  a  signal  from  aloft.  He  recalled,  with  dire 
uneasiness,  Miss  Cameron's  statement  that  a  guard 
was  stationed  beneath  her  window  throughout  the 
night.  Evidently  she  was  mistaken.  Sprouse  would 
not  have  overlooked  a  peril  like  that,  and  yet  as  he 
crouched  there,  scarcely  breathing,  he  wondered  how 
long  it  would  be  before  the  missing  guard  returned 


216  GREEN  FANCY 

to  his  post  and  he  would  be  compelled  to  fight  for 
his  life.  The  fine,  cold  rain  fell  gently  about  him; 
moist  tendrils  and  leaves  caressed  his  face;  owls 
hooted  with  ghastly  vehemence,  as  if  determined  to 
awaken  all  the  sleepers  for  miles  around;  and  frogs 
chattered  loudly  in  gleeful  anticipation  of  the  fren 
zied  dash  he  would  have  to  make  through  the  black 
maze. 

We  will  follow  Sprouse.  When  he  crawled  through 
the  window  and  stood  erect  inside  the  room,  he  found 
himself  confronted  by  a  tall,  shadowy  figure,  stand 
ing  half  way  between  him  and  the  door. 

He  advanced  a  step  or  two  and  uttered  a  soft  hiss 
of  warning. 

"Not  a  sound,"  he  whispered,  drawing  still  nearer. 
"I  have  come  four  thousand  miles  to  help  you, 
Countess.  This  is  not  the  time  or  place  to  explain. 
We  haven't  a  moment  to  waste.  I  need  only  say 
that  I  have  been  sent  from  Paris  by  persons  you 
know  to  aid  you  in  delivering  the  crown  jewels  into 
the  custody  of  your  country's  minister  in  Paris. 
Nothing  more  need  be  said  now.  We  must  act 
swiftly.  Tell  me  where  they  are.  I  will  get  them." 

"Who  are  you?"  she  whispered  tensely. 

"My  name  is  Theodore  Sprouse.  I  have  been 
loaned  to  your  embassy  by  my  own  government." 

"How  did  you  learn  that  I  was  here?" 

"I  beg  of  you  do  not  ask  questions  now.  Tell  me 
where  the  Prince  sleeps,  how  I  may  get  to  his 
room " 

"You  know  that  he  is  the  Prince?" 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       217 

"For  a  certainty.     And  that  you  are  his  cousin." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  "And  you  know 
that  he  plans  evil  to — to  his  people?  That  he  is  in 
sympathy  with  the — with  the  country  that  has  de 
spoiled  us?" 

"Yes." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "Not  only  is  it  im 
possible  for  you  to  enter  his  room  but  it  is  equally 
impossible  for  you  to  get  out  of  this  one  except  by 
the  way  you  entered.  If  I  thought  there  was  the 
slightest  chance  for  you  to " 

"Let  me  be  the  judge  of  that,  Countess.  Where 
is  his  room?" 

"The  last  to  the  right  as  you  leave  this  door, — 
at  the  extreme  end  of  the  corridor.  There  are  four 
doors  between  mine  and  his.  Across  the  hall  from 
his  room  you  will  see  an  open  door.  A  man  sits  in 
there  all  night  long,  keeping  watch.  You  could 
not  approach  Prince  Ugo's  door  without  being  seen 
by  that  watcher." 

"You  said  in  your  note  to  Barnes  that  the — er — 
something  was  in  Curtis's  study." 

"The  Prince  sleeps  in  Mr.  Curtis's  room.  The 
study  adjoins  it,  and  can  only  be  entered  from  the 
bed-room.  There  is  no  other  door.  What  are  you 
doing?" 

"I  am  going  to  take  a  peep  over  the  transom,  first 
of  all.  If  the  coast  is  clear,  I  shall  take  a  little 
stroll  down  the  hall.  Do  not  be  alarmed.  I  will 
come  back, — with  the  things  we  both  want.  Pardon 
me."  He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  re- 


218  GREEN  FANCY 

moved  his  shoes.  She  watched  him  as  if  fascinated 
while  he  opened  the  bosom  of  his  soft  shirt  and 
stuffed  the  wet  shoes  inside. 

"How  did  you  dispose  of  the  man  who  watches  be 
low  my  window?"  she  inquired,  drawing  near.  "He 
has  been  there  for  the  past  three  nights.  I  missed 
him  to-night." 

"Wasn't  he  there  earlier  in  the  evening?"  de 
manded  Sprouse  quickly. 

"I  have  been  in  my  room  since  eleven.  He  seldom 
comes  on  duty  before  that  hour." 

"I  had  it  figured  out  that  he  was  one  of  the  men 
we  got  down  in  the  woods.  If  I  have  miscalculated 
— well,  poor  Barnes  may  be  in  for  a  bad  time.  We 
are  quite  safe  up  here  for  the  time  being.  The  fel 
low  will  assume  that  Barnes  is  alone  and  that  he 
comes  to  pay  his  respects  to  you  in  a  rather  roman 
tic  manner.'* 

"You  must  warn  Mr.  Barnes.    He " 

"May  I  not  leave  that  to  you,  Countess?  I  shall 
be  very  busy  for  the  next  few  minutes,  and  if  you 

will Be  careful!  A  slip  now  would  be  fatal. 

Don't  be  hasty."  His  whispering  was  sharp  and  im 
perative.  It  was  a  command  that  he  uttered,  and 
she  shrank  back  in  surprise. 

"Pray  do  not  presume  to  address  me  in " 

"I  crave  your  pardon,  my  lady,"  he  murmured 
abjectly.  "You  are  not  dressed  for  flight.  May  I 
suggest  that  while  I  am  outside  you  slip  on  a  dark 
skirt  and  coat?  You  cannot  go  far  in  that  dressing- 
gown.  It  would  be  in  shreds  before  you  had  gone 


TWO  VISITORS  AT  MIDNIGHT       219 

a  hundred  feet  through  the  brush.  If  I  do  not  re 
turn  to  this  room  inside  of  fifteen  minutes,  .or  if 
you  hear  sounds  of  a  struggle,  crawl  through  the 
window  and  go  down  the  vines.  Barnes  will  look 
out  for  you." 

"You  must  not  fail,  Theodore  Sprouse,"  she  whis 
pered.  "I  must  regain  the  jewels  and  the  state  pa 
pers.  I  cannot  go  without " 

"I  shall  do  my  best,"  he  said  simply.  Silently  he 
drew  a  chair  to  the  door,  mounted  it  and,  drawing 
himself  up  by  his  hands,  poked  his  head  through 
the  open  transom.  An  instant  later  he  was  on  the 
floor  again.  She  heard  him  inserting  a  key  in  the 
lock.  Almost  before  she  could  realise  that  it  had 
actually  happened,  the  door  opened  slowly,  cau 
tiously,  and  his  thin  wiry  figure  slid  through  what 
seemed  to  her  no  more  than  a  crack.  As  softly  the 
door  was  closed. 

For  a  long  time  she  stood,  dazed  and  unbelieving, 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  staring  at  the  door. 
She  held  her  breath,  listening  for  the  shout  that  was 
so  sure  to  come — and  the  shot,  perhaps!  A  prayer 
formed  on  her  lips  and  went  voicelessly  up  to  God. 

Suddenly  she  roused  herself  from  the  stupefac 
tion  that  held  her,  and  threw  off  the  slinky  peignoir. 
With  feverish  haste  she  snatched  up  garments  from 
the  chair  on  which  she  had  carefully  placed  them 
in  anticipation  of  the  emergency  that  now  presented 
itself.  A  blouse  (which  she  neglected  to  button),  a 
short  skirt  of  some  dark  material,  a  jacket,  and  a 
pair  of  stout  walking  shoes  (which  she  failed  to  lace), 


220  GREEN  FANCY 

completed  the  swift  transformation.  She  felt  the 
pockets  of  skirt  and  jacket,  assuring  herself  that 
her  purse  and  her  own  personal  jewelry  were  where 
she  had  forehandedly  placed  them.  As  she  glided 
to  the  window,  she  jammed  the  pins  into  a  small 
black  hat  of  felt.  Then  she  peered  over  the  ledge. 
She  started  back,  stifling  a  cry  with  her  hand.  A 
man's  head  had  almost  come  in  contact  with  her 
own  as  she  leaned  out.  A  man's  hand  reached  over 
and  grasped  the  inner  ledge  of  the  casement,  and 
then  a  man's  face  was  dimly  revealed  to  her  startled 
gaze. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A     FLIGHT,    A    STONE-CUTTEB,'s    SHED,     AND     A     VOICE 
OUTSIDE 

HE  saw  her  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
her  clenched  hands  pressed  to  her  lips.  At 
the  angle  from  which  he  peered  into  the 
room,  her  head  was  in  line  with  the  lighted  tran 
som. 

His  grip  on  the  ledge  was  firm  but  his  foothold 
on  the  lattice  precarious.  He  felt  himself  slipping. 
Exerting  all  of  his  strength  he  drew  himself  up 
ward,  free  of  the  vines  that  had  begun  to  yield  to 
his  weight. 

An  almost  inaudible  "Whew!"  escaped  his  lips  as 
he  straddled  the  sill.  An  instant  later  he  was  in 
the  room. 

"Why  have  you  come  up  here?"  She  came  swiftly 
to  his  side. 

"Thank  the  Lord,  I  made  it,'*  he  whispered, 
breathlessly.  "I  came  up  because  there  was  no 
where  else  to  go.  I  thought  I  heard  voices — a  man 
and  a  woman  speaking.  They  seemed  to  be  quite 
close  to  me.  Don't  be  alarmed,  Miss  Cameron.  I 
am  confident  that  I  can " 

"And  now  that  you  are  here,  trapped  as  I  am, 
221 


222  GREEN  FANCY 

what  do  you  purpose  to  do?  You  cannot  escape. 
Go  back  before  it  is  too  late.  Go " 

"Is  Sprouse — where  is  he?" 

"He  is  somewhere  in  the  house.  I  have  heard  no 

sound.  I  was  to  wait  until  he Oh,  Mr.  Barnes, 

I — I  am  terrified.  You  will  never  know  the " 

"Trust  him,"  he  said.  "He  is  a  man-el.  We'll 
be  safely  out  of  here  in  a  little  while,  and  then  it 
will  all  look  simple  to  you.  You  are  ready  to  go? 
Good !  We  will  wait  a  few  minutes  and  if  he  doesn't 

show  up  we'll Why,  you  are  trembling  like  a 

leaf !  Sit  down,  do !  If  he  doesn't  return  in  a  min 
ute  or  two,  I'll  take  a  look  about  the  house  my 
self.  I  don't  intend  to  desert  him.  I  know  this 
floor  pretty  well,  and  the  lower  one.  The  stairs 
are " 

"But  the  stairway  is  closed  at  the  bottom  by  a 
solid  steel  curtain.  It  is  made  to  look  like  a  panel 
in  the  wall.  Mr.  Curtis  had  it  put  in  to  protect  him 
self  from  burglars.  You  are  not  to  venture  outside 
this  room,  Mr.  Barnes.  I  forbid  it.  You " 

"How  did  Sprouse  get  out?  You  said  your  door 
was  locked." 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  beside  her. 
She  was  still  trembling  violently.  He  took  her  hand 
in  his  and  held  it  tightly. 

"He  had  a  key.  I  do  not  know  where  he  ob 
tained " 

"Skeleton  key,  such  as  burglars  use.  By  Jove, 
what  a  wonderful  burglar  he  would  make !  Courage, 
Miss  Cameron !  He  will  be  here  soon.  Then  comes 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE     223 

the  real  adventure, — my  part  of  it.  I  didn't  come 
here  to-night  to  get  any  flashy  old  crown  jewels.  I 
came  to  take  you  out  of " 

"You — you  know  about  the  crown  jewels?"  she 
murmured.  Her  body  seemed  to  stiffen. 

"Very  little.     They  are  nothing  to  me." 

"Then  you  know  who  I  am?" 

"No.     You  will  tell  me  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  yes, — to-morrow,"  she  whispered,  and  fell 
to  shivering  again. 

For  some  time  there  was  silence.  Both  were  listen 
ing  intently  for  sounds  in  the  hall ;  both  were  watch 
ing  the  door  with  unblinking  eyes.  She  leaned  closer 
to  whisper  in  his  ear.  Their  shoulders  touched.  He 
wondered  if  she  experienced  the  same  delightful  thrill 
that  ran  through  his  body.  She  told  him  of  the 
man  who  watched  across  the  hall  from  the  room 
supposed  to  be  occupied  by  Loeb  the  secretary,  and 
of  Sprouse's  incomprehensible  daring. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Curtis?"  he  asked. 

Her  breath  fanned  his  cheek,  her  lips  were  close 
to  his  ear.  "There  is  no  Mr.  Curtis  here.  He  died 
four  months  ago  in  Florida." 

"I  suspected  as  much."  He  did  not  press  her  for 
further  revelations.  "Sprouse  should  be  here  by  this 
time.  It  isn't  likely  that  he  has  met  with  a  mis 
hap.  You  would  have  heard  the  commotion.  I  must 
go  out  there  and  see  if  he  requires  any " 

She  clutched  his  arm  frantically.  "You  shall  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  You  shall  not " 

"Sh!   What  do  you  take  me  for,  Miss  Cameron? 


GREEN  FANCY 

He  may  be  sorely  in  need  of  help.  Do  you  think 
that  I  would  leave  him  to  God  knows  what  sort  of 
fate?  Not  much!  We  undertook  this  job  together 
and " 

"But  he  said  positively  that  I  was  to  go  in  case 
he  did  not  return  in — in  fifteen  minutes,"  she  begged. 
"He  may  have  been  cut  off  and  was  compelled  to 
escape  from  another " 

"Just  the  same,  I've  got  to  see  what  has  become 
of " 

"No!  No!"  She  arose  with  him,  dragging  at  his 
arm.  "Do  not  be  foolhardy.  You  are  not  skilled 
at " 

"There  is  only  one  way  to  stop  me,  Miss  Cameron. 
If  you  will  come  with  me  now " 

"But  I  must  know  whether  he  secured  the " 

"Then  let  me  go.  I  will  find  out  whether  he  has 
succeeded.  Stand  over  there  by  the  window,  ready 
to  go  if  I  have  to  make  a  run  for  it." 

He  was  rougher  than  he  realised  in  wrenching  his 
arm  free.  She  uttered  a  low  moan  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands.  Undeterred,  he  crossed  to  the 
door.  His  hand  was  on  the  knob  when  a  door 
slammed  violently  somewhere  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
house. 

A  hoarse  shout  of  alarm  rang  out,  and  then  the 
rush  of  heavy  feet  over  thickly  carpeted  floors. 

Barnes  acted  with  lightning  swiftness.  He  sprang 
to  the  open  window,  half-carrying,  half-dragging  the 
girl  with  him. 

"Now  for  it!"  he  whispered.     "Not  a  second  to 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE 

lose.  Climb  upon  my  back,  quick,  and  hang  on  for 
dear  life."  He  had  scrambled  through  the  window 
and  was  lying  flat  across  the  sill.  "Hurry !  Don't 
be  afraid.  I  am  strong  enough  to  carry  you  if  the 
vines  do  their  part." 

With  surprising  alacrity  and  sureness  she  crawled 
out  beside  him  and  then  over  upon  his  broad  back, 
clasping  her  arms  around  his  neck.  Holding  to  the 
ledge  with  one  hand  he  felt  for  and  clutched  the 
thick  vine  with  the  other.  Slowly  he  slid  his  body  off 
of  the  sill  and  swung  free  by  one  arm.  An  instant 
later  he  found  the  lattice  with  the  other  hand  and 
the  hurried  descent  began.  His  only  fear  was  that 
the  vine  would  not  hold.  If  it  broke  loose  they  would 
drop  fifteen  feet  or  more  to  the  ground.  A  broken 

leg,  an  arm,  or  even  worse, But  her  hair  was 

brushing  his  ear  and  neck,  her  arms  were  about  him, 

her  heart  beat  against  his  straining  back,  and 

Why  be  a  pessimist? 

His  feet  touched  the  ground.  In  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  he  picked  her  up  in  his  arms  and  bolted 
across  the  little  grass  plot  into  the  shrubbery.  She 
did  not  utter  a  sound.  Her  arms  tightened,  and 
now  her  cheek  was  against  his. 

Presently  he  set  her  down.  His  breath  was  gone, 
his  strength  exhausted. 

"Can  you — manage  to — walk  a  little  way?"  he 
gasped.  "Give  me  your  hand,  and  follow  as  close 
to  my  heels  as  you  can.  Better  that  I  should  bump 
into  things  than  you." 


226  GREEN  FANCY 

Shouts  were  now  heard,  and  shrill  blasts  on  a  po 
lice  whistle  split  the  air. 

Her  breathing  was  like  sobs, — short  and  choking, 
— but  he  knew  she  was  not  crying.  Apprehension, 
alarm,  excitement, — anything  but  hysteria.  The 
fortitude  of  generations  was  hers;  a  hundred  fore 
bears  had  passed  courage  down  to  her. 

On  they  stumbled,  blindly,  recklessly.  He  spared 
her  many  an  injury  by  taking  it  himself.  More  than 
once  she  murmured  sympathy  when  he  crashed  into 
a  tree  or  floundered  over  a  log.  The  soft,  long- 
drawn  "O-ohs!"  that  came  to  his  ears  were  full  of 
a  music  that  made  him  impervious  to  pain.  They 
had  the  effect  of  martial  music  on  him,  as  the  drum 
and  fife  exalts  the  faltering  soldier  in  his  march  to 
death. 

Utterly  at  sea,  he  was  now  guessing  at  the  course 
they  were  taking.  Whether  their  frantic  dash  was 
leading  them  toward  the  Tavern,  or  whether  they 
were  circling  back  to  Green  Fancy,  he  knew  not. 
Panting,  he  forged  onward,  his  ears  alert  not  only 
for  the  sound  of  pursuit  but  for  the  shot  that  would 
end  the  career  of  the  spectacular  Sprouse. 

At  last  she  cried  out,  quaveringly  : 

"Oh,  I — I  can  go  no  farther !  Can't  we — is  it  not 
safe  to  stop  for  a  moment?  My  breath  is " 

"God  bless  you,  yes,"  he  exclaimed,  and  came  to 
an  abrupt  stop.  She  leaned  heavily  against  him, 
gasping  for  breath.  "I  haven't  the  faintest  idea 
where  we  are,  but  we  must  be  some  distance  from 
the  house.  We  will  rest  a  few  minutes  and  then  take 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE     227 

it  easier,  more  cautiously.  I  am  sorry,  but  it  was 
the  only  thing  to  do,  rough  as  it  was." 

"I  know,  I  understand.  I  am  not  complaining, 
Mr.  Barnes.  You  will  find  me  ready  and  strong 
and " 

"Let  me  think.  I  must  try  to  get  my  bearings. 
Good  Lord,  I  wish  Sprouse  were  here.  He  has  eyes 
like  a  cat.  He  can  see  in  the  dark.  We  are  off  the 
path,  that's  sure." 

"I  hope  he  is  safe.    Do  you  think  he  escaped?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  Those  whistles  were  sounding 
the  alarm.  There  would  have  been  no  object  in 
blowing  them  unless  he  had  succeeded  in  getting  out 
of  the  house.  He  may  come  this  way.  The  chances 
are  that  your  flight  has  not  been  discovered.  They 
are  too  busy  with  him  to  think  of  you, — at  least  for 
the  time  being.  Do  you  feel  like  going  on?  We  must 
beat  them  to  the  Tavern.  They " 

"I  am  all  right  now,"  she  said,  and  they  were  off 
again.  Barnes  now  picked  his  way  carefully  and 
with  the  greatest  caution.  If  at  times  he  was  urged 
to  increased  speed  through  comparatively  open 
spaces  it  was  because  he  realised  the  peril  that  lay 
at  the  very  end  of  their  journey:  the  likelihood  of 
being  cut  off  by  the  pursuers  before  he  could  lodge 
her  safely  inside  of  the  walls.  He  could  only  pray 
that  he  was  going  in  the  right  direction. 

An  hour, — but  what  seemed  thrice  as  long, — 
passed  and  they  had  not  come  to  the  edge  of  the 
forest.  Her  feet  were  beginning  to  drag;  he  could 
tell  that  by  the  effort  she  made  to  keep  up  with  him. 


228  GREEN  FANCY 

From  time  to  time  he  paused  to  allow  her  to  rest. 
Always  she  leaned  heavily  against  him,  seldom  speak 
ing;  when  she  did  it  was  to  assure  him  that  she 
would  be  all  right  in  a  moment  or  two.  There  was 
no  sentimental  motive  behind  his  action  when  he 
finally  found  it  necessary  to  support  her  with  an 
encircling  arm,  nor  was  she  loath  to  accept  this  trib 
ute  of  strength. 

"You  are  plucky,"  he  once  said  to  her. 

"I  am  afraid  I  could  not  be  so  plucky  if  you  were 
not  so  strong,"  she  sighed,  and  he  loved  the  tired, 
whimsical  little  twist  she  put  into  her  reply.  It  re 
vived  the  delightful  memory  of  another  day. 

To  his  dismay  they  came  abruptly  upon  a  region 
abounding  in  huge  rocks.  This  was  new  territory  to 
him.  His  heart  sank. 

"By  Jove,  I — I  believe  we  are  farther  away  from 
the  road  than  when  we  started.  We  must  have  been 
going  up  the  slope  instead  of  down." 

"In  any  case,  Mr.  Barnes,"  she  murmured,  "we 
have  found  something  to  sit  down  upon." 

He  chuckled.  "If  you  can  be  as  cheerful  as  all 
that,  we  sha'n't  miss  the  cushions,"  he  said,  and,  for 
the  first  time,  risked  a  flash  of  the  electric  torch. 
The  survey  was  brief.  He  led  her  forward  a  few 
paces  to  a  flat  boulder,  and  there  they  seated  them 
selves. 

"I  wonder  where  we  are,"  she  said. 

"I  give  it  up,"  he  replied  dismally.  "There  isn't 
much  sense  in  wandering  over  the  whole  confounded 
mountain,  Miss  Cameron,  and  not  getting  anywhere. 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE 

I  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  we  are  above  Green 
Fancy,  but  a  long  way  off  to  the  right  of  it.  My 
bump  of  direction  tells  me  that  we  have  been  going 
to  the  right  all  of  the  time.  Admitting  that  to  be 
the  case,  I  am  afraid  to  retrace  our  steps.  The 
Lord  only  knows  what  we  might  blunder  into." 

"I  think  the  only  sensible  thing  to  do,  Mr.  Barnes, 
is  to  make  ourselves  as  snug  and  comfortable  as  we 
can  and  wait  for  the  first  signs  of  daybreak." 

He  scowled, — and  was  glad  that  it  was  too  dark 
for  her  to  see  his  face.  He  wondered  if  she  fully 
appreciated  what  would  happen  to  him  if  the  pur 
suers  came  upon  him  in  this  forbidding  spot.  He 
could  almost  picture  his  own  body  lying  there  among 
the  rocks  and  rotting,  while  she — well,  she  would 
merely  go  back  to  Green  Fancy. 

"I  fear  you  do  not  realise  the  extreme  gravity  of 
the  situation." 

"I  do,  but  I  also  realise  the  folly  of  thrashing 
about  in  this  brush  without  in  the  least  knowing 
where  our  steps  are  leading  us.  Besides,  I  am  so 
exhausted  that  I  must  be  a  burden  to  you.  You 
cannot  go  on  supporting  me " 

"We  must  get  out  of  these  woods,"  he  broke  in 
doggedly,  "if  I  have  to  carry  you  in  my  arms." 

"I  shall  try  to  keep  going,"  she  said  quickly. 
"Forgive  me  if  I  seemed  to  falter  a  little.  I — I — • 
am  ready  to  go  on  when  you  say  the  word." 

"You  poor  girl!  Hang  it  all,  perhaps  you  are 
right  and  not  I.  Sit  still  and  I  will  reconnoitre  a 
bit.  If  I  can  find  a  place  where  we  can  hide  among 


230  GREEN  FANCY 

these  rocks,  we'll  stay  here  till  the  sky  begins  to 
lighten.  Sit " 

"No!  I  shall  not  let  you  leave  me  for  a  seconH. 
Where  you  go,  I  go."  She  struggled  to  her  feet, 
suppressing  a  groan,  and  thrust  a  determined  arm 
through  his. 

"That's  worth  remembering,"  said  he,  and  whether 
it  was  a  muscular  necessity  or  an  emotional  exaction 
that  caused  his  arm  to  tighten  on  hers,  none  save  he 
would  ever  know. 

After  a  few  minutes  prowling  among  the  rocks 
they  came  to  the  face  of  what  subsequently  proved 
to  be  a  sheer  wall  of  stone.  He  flashed  the  light, 
and,  with  an  exclamation,  started  back.  Not  six 
feet  ahead  of  them  the  earth  seemed  to  end ;  a  yawn 
ing  black  gulf  lay  beyond.  Apparently  they  were 
on  the  very  edge  of  a  cliff. 

"Good  Lord,  that  was  a  close  call,"  he  gasped. 
He  explained  in  a  few  words  and  then,  commanding 
her  to  stand  perfectly  still,  dropped  to  the  ground 
and  carefully  felt  his  way  forward.  Again  he  flashed 
the  light.  In  an  instant  he  understood.  They  were 
on  the  brink  of  a  shallow  quarry,  from  which,  no 
doubt,  the  stone  used  in  building  the  foundations  at 
Green  Fancy  had  been  taken. 

Lying  there,  he  made  swift  calculations.  There 
would  be  a  road  leading  from  this  pit  up  to  the 
house  itself.  The  quarry,  no  longer  of  use  to  the 
builder,  was  reasonably  sure  to  be  abandoned.  In 
all  probability  some  sort  of  a  stone-cutter's  shed 
would  be  found  nearby.  It  would  provide  shelter 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE    231 

from  the  fine  rain  that  was  falling  and  from  the 
chill  night  air.  He  remembered  that  O'Dowd,  in  dis 
cussing  the  erection  of  Green  Fancy  the  night  be 
fore,  had  said  that  the  stone  came  from  a  pit  two 
miles  away,  where  a  fine  quality  of  granite  had  been 
found.  The  quarry  belonged  to  Mr.  Curtis,  who 
had  refused  to  consider  any  offer  from  would-be 
purchasers.  Two  miles,  according  to  Barnes's  quick 
calculations,  would  bring  the  pit  close  to  the  north 
ern  boundary  of  the  Curtis  property  and  almost  di 
rectly  on  a  line  with  the  point  where  he  and  Sprouse 
entered  the  meadow  at  the  beginning  of  their  ad 
vance  upon  Green  Fancy.  That  being  the  case,  they 
were  now  quite  close  to  the  stake  and  rider  fence 
separating  the  Curtis  land  from  that  of  the  farmer 
on  the  north.  Sprouse  and  Barnes  had  hugged  this 
fence  during  their  progress  across  the  meadow. 

"Good,"  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  to  her.  "I 
begin  to  see  light." 

"Oh,  dear!  Is  there  some  one  down  in  that  hole, 
Mr. " 

"Are  you  afraid  to  remain  here  while  I  go  down 
there  for  a  look  around?  I  sha'n't  be  gone  more 
than  a  couple  of  minutes." 

"The  way  I  feel  at  present,"  she  said,  jerkily,  "I 
shall  never,  never  from  this  instant  till  the  hour  in 
which  I  die,  let  go  of  your  coat-tails,  Mr.  Barnes." 
Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  her  fingers  resolutely 
fastened,  not  upon  the  tail  of  his  coat  but  upon  his 
sturdy  arm.  "I  wouldn't  stay  here  alone  for  any 
thing  in  the  world." 


GREEN  FANCY 

"Heaven  bless  you,"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  ex 
alted.  "And,  since  you  put  it  that  way,  I  shall  al 
ways  contrive  to  be  within  arm's  length." 

And  so,  together,  they  ventured  along  the  edge 
of  the  pit  until  they  reached  the  wagon  road  at  the 
bottom.  As  he  had  expected,  there  was  a  ram 
shackle  shed  hard  by.  It  was  not  much  of  a  place, 
but  it  was  deserted  and  a  safe  shelter  for  the  mo 
ment. 

A  workman's  bench  lay  on  its  side  in  the  middle  of 
the  earthen  floor.  He  righted  it  and  drew  it  over  to 
the  boarding.  .  .  .  She  laid  her  head  against  his 
shoulder  and  sighed  deeply.  .  .  .  He  kept  his  eyes 
glued  on  the  door  and  listened  for  the  first  omi 
nous  sound  outside.  A  long  time  afterward  she 
stirred. 

"Don't  move,"  he  said  softly.  "Go  to  sleep  again 
if  you  can.  I  will " 

"Sleep  ?  I  haven't  been  asleep.  I've  been  thinking 
all  the  time,  Mr.  Barnes.  I've  been  wondering  how 
I  can  ever  repay  you  for  all  the  pain,  and  trouble, 
and " 

"I  am  paid  in  full  up  to  date,"  he  said.  "I  take 
my  pay  as  I  go  and  am  satisfied."  He  did  not  give 
her  time  to  puzzle  it  out,  but  went  on  hurriedly: 
"You  were  so  still  I  thought  you  were  asleep." 

"As  if  I  could  go  to  sleep  with  so  many  things  to 
keep  me  awake!"  She  shivered. 

"Are  you  cold?     You  are  wet " 

"It  was  the  excitement,  the  nervousness,  Mr. 
Barnes,"  she  said,  drawing  slightly  away  from  him. 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE     233 

He  reconsidered  the  disposition  of  his  arm.  "Isn't 
it  nearly  daybreak?" 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  "Three  o'clock,"  he  said, 
and  turned  the  light  upon  her  face.  "God,  you 

are "  He  checked  the  riotous  words  that  were 

driven  to  his  lips  by  the  glimpse  of  her  lovely  face. 
"I — I  beg  your  pardon!" 

"For  what?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment. 

"For — for  blinding  you  with  the  light,"  he  floun 
dered. 

"Oh,  I  can  forgive  you  for  that,"  she  said  com 
posedly. 

There  ensued  another  period  of  silence.  She  re 
mained  slightly  aloof. 

"You'd  better  lean  against  me,"  he  said  at  last. 
"I  am  softer  than  the  beastly  boards,  you  know, 
and  quite  as  harmless." 

"Thank  you,*'  she  said,  and  promptly  settled  her 
self  against  his  shoulder.  "It  is  better,"  she  sighed. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  something  about 
yourself,  Miss  Cameron?  What  is  the  true  story 
of  the  crown  jewels?" 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  When  she  spoke  it  was 
to  ask  a  question  of  him. 

"Do  you  know  who  he  really  is, — I  mean  the  man 
known  to  you  as  Mr.  Loeb?" 

"Not  positively.  I  am  led  to  believe  that  he  is 
indirectly  in  line  to  succeed  to  the  throne  of  your 
country." 

"Tell  me  something  about  Sprouse.  How  did  you 
meet  him  and  what  induced  him  to  take  you  into  his 


234  GREEN  FANCY 

confidence?  It  is  not  the  usual  way  with  govern 
ment  agents." 

He  told  her  the  story  of  his  encounter  and  con 
nection  with  the  secret  agent,  and  part  but  not  all 
of  the  man's  revelations  concerning  herself  and  the 
crown  jewels. 

"I  knew  that  you  were  not  a  native  American," 
he  said.  "I  arrived  at  that  conclusion  after  our 
meeting  at  the  cross-roads.  When  O'Dowd  said  you 
were  from  New  Orleans,  I  decided  that  you  belonged 
to  one  of  the  French  or  Spanish  families  there. 
Either  that  or  you  were  a  fairy  princess  such  as  one 
reads  about  in  books." 

"And  you  now  believe  that  I  am  a  royal — or  at 
the  very  worst — a  noble  lady  with  designs  on  the 
crown?"  There  was  a  faint  ripple  in  her  low  voice. 

"I  should  like  to  know  whether  I  am  to  address  you 
as  Princess,  Duchess,  or — just  plain  Miss." 

"I  am  more  accustomed  to  plain  Miss,  Mr.  Barnes, 
than  to  either  of  the  titles  you  would  give  me." 

"Don't  you  feel  that  I  am  deserving  of  a  little 
enlightenment?"  he  asked.  "I  am  working  literally 
as  well  as  figuratively  in  the  dark.  Who  are  you? 
Why  were  you  a  prisoner  at  Green  Fancy?  Where 
and  what  is  your  native  land?" 

"Sprouse  did  not  tell  you  any  of  these  things?" 

"No.  I  think  he  was  in  some  doubt  himself.  I 
don't  blame  him  for  holding  back  until  he  was  cer 
tain." 

"Mr.  Barnes,  I  cannot  answer  any  one  of  your 
questions  without  jeopardising  a  cause  that  is  dearer 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE     235 

to  me  than  anything  else  in  all  the  world.  I  am 
sorry.  I  pray  God  a  day  may  soon  come  when  I 
can  reveal  everything  to  you — and  to  the  world.  I 
am  of  a  stricken  country ;  I  am  trying  to  serve  the 
unhappy  house  that  has  ruled  it  for  centuries  and  is 
now  in  the  direst  peril.  The  man  you  know  as  Loeb 
is  a  prince  of  that  house.  I  may  say  this  to  you, 
and  it  will  serve  to  explain  my  position  at  Green 
Fancy:  he  is  not  the  Prince  I  was  led  to  believe 
awaited  me  there.  He  is  the  cousin  of  the  man  I 
expected  to  meet,  and  he  is  the  enemy  of  the  branch 
of  the  house  that  I  would  serve.  Do  not  ask  me  to 
say  more.  Trust  me  as  I  am  trusting  you, — as 
Sprouse  trusted  you." 

"May  I  ask  the  cause  of  O'Dowd's  apparent  de 
fection?" 

"He  is  not  in  sympathy  with  all  of  the  plans  ad 
vanced  by  his  leader,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  re 
flection. 

"Your  sympathies  are  with  the  Entente  Allies,  the 
prince's  are  opposed?  Is  that  part  of  Sprouse's 
story  true?" 

"Yes." 

"And  O'Dowd?" 

"O'Dowd  is  anti-English,  Mr.  Barnes,  if  that  con 
veys  anything  to  you.  He  is  not  pro-German. 
Perhaps  you  will  understand." 

"Wasn't  it  pretty  risky  for  you  to  carry  the 
crown  jewels  around  in  a  travelling  bag,  Miss  Cam 
eron  ?" 

"I  suppose  so.     It  turned  out,  however,  that  it 


236  GREEN  FANCY 

was  the  safest,  surest  way.  I  had  them  in  my  pos 
session  for  three  days  before  coming  to  Green  Fancy. 
No  one  suspected.  They  were  given  into  my  cus 
tody  by  the  committee  to  whom  they  were  delivered 
in  New  York  by  the  men  who  brought  them  to  this 
country." 

"And  why  did  you  bring  them  to  Green  Fancy?" 

"I  was  to  deliver  them  to  one  of  their  rightful 
owners,  Mr.  Barnes, — a  loyal  prince  of  the  blood." 

"But  why  here?"  he  insisted. 

"He  was  to  take  them  into  Canada,  and  thence, 
in  good  time,  to  the  palace  of  his  ancestors." 

"I  am  to  understand,  then,  that  not  only  you  but 
the  committee  you  speak  of,  fell  into  a  carefully  pre 
pared  trap." 

"Yes." 

"You  did  not  know  the  man  who  picked  you  up 
in  the  automobile,  Miss  Cameron.  Why  did  you  take 
the  chance  with " 

"He  gave  the  password,  or  whatever  you  may  call 
it,  and  it  could  have  been  known  only  to  persons 
devoted  to  our — our  cause." 

"I  see.  The  treachery,  therefore,  had  its  incep 
tion  in  the  loyal  nest.  You  were  betrayed  by  a 
friend." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  said  bitterly.  "If  this  man 
Sprouse  does  not  succeed  in  restoring  the — oh,  I  be 
lieve  I  shall  kill  myself,  Mr.  Barnes." 

The  wail  of  anguish  in  her  voice  went  straight  to 
his  heart. 

"He  has  succeeded,  take  my  word  for  it.     They 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE     237 

will  be  in  your  hands  before  many  hours  have 
passed." 

"Is  he  to  come  to  the  Tavern  with  them?  Or  am 
I  to  meet  him " 

"Good  Lord !"  he  gulped.  Here  was  a  contingency 
he  had  not  considered.  Where  and  when  would 
Sp rouse  appear  with  his  booty?  "I — I  fancy  we'll 
find  him  waiting  for  us  at  the  Tavern." 

"But  had  you  no  understanding?" 

"Er — tentatively."  The  perspiration  started  on 
his  brow. 

"They  will  guard  the  Tavern  so  closely  that  we 
will  never  be  able  to  get  away  from  the  place,"  she 
said,  and  he  detected  a  querulous  note  in  her  voice. 

"Now  don't  you  worry  about  that,"  he  said 
stoutly. 

"I  love  the  comforting  way  you  have  of  saying 
things,"  she  murmured,  and  he  felt  her  body  relax. 

For  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  he  failed  to  re 
spond  to  this  interesting  confession.  He  was  think 
ing  of  something  else:  his  amazing  stupidity  in  not 
foreseeing  the  very  situation  that  now  presented  it 
self.  Why  had  he  neglected  to  settle  upon  a  meet 
ing  place  with  Sprouse  in  the  event  that  circum 
stances  forced  them  to  part  company  in  flight  ?  Fear 
ing  that  she  would  pursue  the  subject,  he  made  haste 
to  branch  off  onto  another  line. 

"What  is  the  real  object  of  the  conspiracy  up 
there,  Miss  Cameron?" 

"You  must  bear  with  me  a  little  longer,  Mr. 
Barnes,"  she  said,  appealingly.  "I  cannot  say  any- 


238  GREEN  FANCY 

thing  now.  I  am  in  a  very  perplexing  position. 
You  see,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  am  right  in  my 
conclusions,  and  it  would  be  dreadful  if  I  were  to 
make  a  mistake." 

"If  they  are  up  to  any  game  that  may  work  harm 
to  the  Allies,  they  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  on  with 
it,"  he  said  sternly.  "Don't  wait  too  long  before 
exposing  them,  Miss  Cameron." 

"I — I  cannot  speak  now,"  she  said,  painfully. 

"You  said  that  to-morrow  night  would  be  too 
late.  What  did  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Do  you  insist  on  pinning  me  down  to " 

"No.  You  may  tell  me  to  mind  my  own  business, 
if  you  like." 

"That  is  not  a  nice  way  to  put  it,  Mr.  Barnes.  I 
could  never  say  such  a  thing  to  you." 

He  was  silent.  She  waited  a  few  seconds  and  then 
removed  her  head  from  his  shoulder.  He  heard  the 
sharp  intake  of  her  breath  and  felt  the  convulsive 
movement  of  the  arm  that  rested  against  his.  There 
was  no  mistaking  her  sudden  agitation. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  she  said,  and  he  was  surprised 
by  the  harshness  that  came  into  her  voice.  "To 
morrow  morning  was  the  time  set  for  my  marriage 
to  that  wretch  up  there.  I  could  have  avoided  it 
only  by  destroying  myself.  If  you  had  come  to 
morrow  night  instead  of  to-night  you  would  have 
found  me  dead,  that  is  all.  Now  you  understand." 

"Good  God!  You — you  were  to  be  forced  into  a 
marriage  with — why,  it  is  the  most  damnable " 


A  SHED  AND  A  VOICE  OUTSIDE     239 

"O'Dowd, — God  bless  him! — was  my  only  cham 
pion.  He  knew  my  father.  He " 

"Listen !"  he  hissed,  starting  to  his  feet. 

"Don't  move !"  came  from  the  darkness  outside. 
"I  have  me  gun  leveled.  I  heard  me  name  taken  in 
vain.  Thanks  for  the  blessing.  I  was  wondering 
whether  you  would  say  something  pleasant  about 
me, — and,  thank  the  good  Lord,  I  was  patient.  But 
I'd  advise  you  both  to  sit  still,  just  the  same." 

A  chuckle  rounded  out  the  gentle  admonition  of 
the  invisible  Irishman. 


LARGE   BODIES  MOVE   SLOWLY, BUT   ME.    SPROUSE  WAS 

SMALLEE  THAN  THE  AVEEAGE 

THERE  was  not  a  sound  for  many  seconds. 
The  trapped  couple  in  the  stone-cutter's  shed 
scarcely  breathed.  She  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"I  am  ready  to  return  with  you,  Mr.  O'Dowd," 
she  said,  distinctly.  "There  must  be  no  struggle,  no 
blood-shed.  Anything  but  that." 

She  felt  Barnes's  body  stiffen  and  caught  the  mut 
tered  execration  that  fell  from  his  lips. 

O'Dowd  spoke  out  of  the  darkness :  "You  forget 
that  I  have  your  own  word  for  it  that  ye'll  be  a 
dead  woman  before  the  day  is  over.  Wouldn't  it  be 
better  for  me  to  begin  shooting  at  once  and  spare 
your  soul  the  everlasting  torture  that  would  begin 
immej iately  after  your  self-produced  decease?" 

A  little  cry  of  relief  greeted  this  quaint  sally. 
"You  have  my  word  that  I  will  return  with  you 
quietly  if " 

"Thunderation !"  exclaimed  Barnes  wrathfully. 
"What  do  you  think  I  am?  A  worm  that " 

"Easy,  easy,  me  dear  man,"  cautioned  O'Dowd. 
"Keep  your  seat.  Don't  be  deceived  by  my  infernal 
Irish  humour.  It  is  my  way  to  be  always  polite, 

240 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       241 

agreeable  and — prompt.  I'll  shoot  in  a  second  if 
ye  move  one  step  outside  that  cabin." 

"O'Dowd,  you  haven't  the  heart  to  drag  her  back 
to  that  beast  of  a " 

"Hold  hard!  We'll  come  to  the  point  without 
further  palavering.  Where  are  ye  dragging  her 
yourself,  ye  rascal?" 

"To  a  place  where  she  will  be  safe  from  insult, 
injury,  degradation " 

"Well,  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  ye  for  that," 
said  O'Dowd.  "Bedad,  I  didn't  believe  you  had  the 
nerve  to  tackle  the  job.  To  be  honest  with  you,  I 
hadn't  the  remotest  idea  who  the  diwil  you  were, 
either  of  you,  until  I  heard  your  voices.  You  may  be 
interested  to  know  that  up  to  the  moment  I  left  the 
house  your  absence  had  not  been  noticed,  my  dear 
Miss  Cameron.  And  as  for  you,  my  dear  Barnes, 
your  visit  is  not  even  suspected.  By  this  time,  of 
course,  the  list  of  the  missing  at  Green  Fancy  is 
headed  by  an  honourable  and  imperishable  name, — 
which  isn't  Cameron, — and  there  is  an  increased  wail 
ing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  How  the  divvil  did  ye 
do  it,  Barnes?" 

"Are  you  disposed  to  be  friendly,  O'Dowd?"  de 
manded  Barnes.  "If  you  are  not,  we  may  just  as 
well  fight  it  out  now  as  later  on.  I  do  not  mean  to 
submit  without  a " 

"You  are  not  to  fight !"  she  cried  in  great  agita 
tion.  "What  are  you  doing?  Put  it  away!  Don't 
shoot!" 

"Is    it    a   gun  he   is   pulling?"   inquired   O'Dowd 


GREEN  FANCY 

calmly.  "And  what  the  deuce  are  you  going  to  aim 
at,  me  hearty?" 

"It  may  sound  cowardly  to  you,  O'Dowd,  but  I 
have  an  advantage  over  you  in  the  presence  of  Miss 
Cameron.  You  don't  dare  shoot  into  this  shed. 
You " 

"Lord  love  ye,  Barnes,  haven't  you  my  word  that 
I  will  not  shoot  unless  ye  try  to  come  out?  And  I 
know  you  wouldn't  use  her  for  a  shield.  Besides,  I 
have  a  bull's-eye  lantern  with  me.  From  the  luxu 
rious  seat  behind  this  rock  I  could  spot  ye  in  a  second. 
Confound  you,  man,  you  ought  to  thank  me  for  be 
ing  so  considerate  as  not  to  flash  it  on  you  before. 
I  ask  ye  now,  isn't  that  proof  that  I'm  a  gentleman 
and  not  a  bounder?  Having  said  as  much,  I  now  pro 
pose  arbitration.  What  have  ye  to  offer  in  the  shape 
of  concessions?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"I'll  be  explicit.  Would  you  mind  handing  over 
that  tin  box  in  exchange  for  my  polite  thanks  and 
a  courteous  good-by  to  both  of  ye?" 

"Tin  box?"  cried  Barnes. 

"We  have  no  box  of  any  description,  Mr. 
O'Dowd,"  cried  she,  triumphantly.  "Thank  heaven, 
he  got  safely  away !" 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  came  away  without 
the — your  belongings,  Miss  Cameron?"  exclaimed 
O'Dowd. 

"They  are  not  with  me,"  she  replied.  Her  grasp 
on  Barnes's  arm  tightened.  "Oh,  isn't  it  splendid? 
They  did  not  catch  him.  He " 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       243 

"Catch  him?     Catch  who?"  cried  O'Dowd. 

"Ah,  that  is  for  you  to  find  out,  my  dear  O'Dowd," 
said  Barnes,  assuming  a  satisfaction  he  did  not  feel. 

"Well,  I'll  be — jiggered,"  came  in  low,  puzzled 
tones  from  the  rocks  outside.  "Did  you  have  a — a 
confederate,  Barnes?  Didn't  you  do  the  whole  job 
yourself?" 

"I  did  my  part  of  the  j  ob,  as  you  call  it,  O'Dowd, 
and  nothing  more." 

"Will  you  both  swear  on  your  sacred  honour  that 
ye  haven't  the  jewels  in  your  possession?" 

"Unhesitatingly,"  said  Barnes. 

"I  swear,  Mr.  O'Dowd." 

"Then,"  said  he,  "I  have  no  time  to  waste  here. 
I  am  looking  for  a  tin  box.  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
disturbing  you." 

"Oh,  Mr.  O'Dowd,  I  shall  never  forget  all  that 
you  have " 

"Whist,  now !  There  is  one  thing  I  must  insist  on 
your  forgetting  completely :  all  that  has  happened  in 
the  last  five  minutes.  I  shall  put  no  obstacles  in 
your  way.  You  may  go  with  my  blessings.  The 
only  favour  I  ask  in  return  is  that  you  never  mention 
having  seen  me  to-night." 

"We  can  do  that  with  a  perfectly  clear  con 
science,"  said  Barnes.  "You  are  absolutely  invisi 
ble." 

"What  I  am  doing  now,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  O'Dowd 
seriously,  "would  be  my  death  sentence  if  it  ever 
became  known." 


244  GREEN  FANCY 

"It  shall  never  be  known  through  me,  O'Dowd. 
I'd  like  to  shake  your  hand,  old  man." 

"God  bless  you,  Mr.  O'Dowd,"  said  the  girl  in 
a  low,  small  voice,  singularly  suggestive  of  tears. 
"Some  day  I  may  be  in  a  position  to " 

"Don't  say  it!  You'll  spoil  everything  if  you  let 
me  think  you  are  in  my  debt.  Bedad,  don't  be  so 
sure  I  sha'n't  see  you  again,  and  soon.  You  are  not 
out  of  the  woods  yet." 

"Tell  me  how  to  find  Hart's  Tavern,  old  man. 
I'll " 

"No,  I'm  dashed  if  I  do.  I  leave  you  to  your  own 
devices.  You  ought  to  be  grateful  to  me  for  not 
stopping  you  entirely,  without  asking  me  to  give  you 
a  helping  hand.  Good-bye,  and  God  bless  you.  I'm 
praying  that  ye  get  away  safely,  Miss  Cameron. 
So  long,  Barnes.  If  you  were  a  crow  and  wanted 
to  roost  on  that  big  tree  in  front  of  Hart's  Tavern, 
I  dare  say  you'd  take  the  shortest  way  there  by 
flying  as  straight  as  a  bullet  from  the  mouth  of  this 
pit,  following  your  extremely  good-looking  nose." 

They  heard  him  rattle  off  among  the  loose  stones 
and  into  the  brush.  A  long  time  afterward,  when  the 
sounds  had  ceased,  Barnes  said,  from  the  bottom  of 
a  full  heart: 

"I  shall  always  feel  something  warm  stirring  with 
in  me  when  I  think  of  that  man." 

"He  is  a  gallant  gentleman,"  said  she  simply. 

They  did  not  wait  for  the  break  of  day.  Taking 
O'Dowd's  hint,  Barnes  directed  his  steps  straight 
out  from  the  mouth  of  the  quarry  and  pressed  con- 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY   245. 

fidently  onward.  Their  progress  was  swifter  than 
before  and  less  cautious.  The  thought  had  come 
to  him  that  the  men  from  Green  Fancy  would  rush 
to  the  outer  edges  of  the  Curtis  land  and  seek  to  in 
tercept,  rather  than  to  overtake,  the  fugitive.  In 
answer  to  a  question  she  informed  him  that  there 
were  no  fewer  than  twenty-five  men  on  the  place,  all 
of  them  shrewd,  resolute  and  formidable. 

"The  women,  who  are  they,  and  what  part  do  they 
play  in  this  enterprise?"  he  inquired,  during  a  short 
pause  for  rest. 

"Mrs.  Collier  is  the  widow  of  a  spy  executed  in 
France  at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  She  is  an  Ameri 
can  and  was  married  to  a — to  a  foreigner.  The  Van 
Dykes  are  very  rich  Americans, — at  least  she  has  a 
great  deal  of  money.  Her  husband  was  in  the  diplo 
matic  service  some  years  ago  but  was  dismissed. 
There  was  a  huge  gambling  scandal  and  he  was  in 
volved.  His  wife  is  determined  to  force  her  way  into 
court  circles  in  Europe.  She  has  money,  she  is 
clever  and  unprincipled,  and — I  am  convinced  that 
she  is  paying  in  advance  for  future  favours  and  posi 
tion  at  a  certain  court.  She " 

"In  other  words,  she  is  financing  the  game  up  at 
Green  Fancy." 

"I  suppose  so.  She  has  millions,  I  am  told.  Mr. 
De  Soto  is  a  Spaniard,  born  and  reared  in  England. 
All  of  them  are  known  in  my  country." 

"I  can't  understand  a  decent  chap  like  O'Dowd 
being  mixed  up  in  a  rotten " 

"Ah,  but  you  do  not  understand.     He  is  a  soldier 


246  GREEN  FANCY 

of  fortune,  an  adventurer.  His  heart  is  better  than 
his  reputation.  It  is  the  love  of  intrigue,  the  joy 
of  turmoil  that  commands  him.  He  has  been  mixed 
up,  as  you  say,  in  any  number  of  secret  enterprises, 
both  good  and  bad.  His  sister's  children  are  the 
owners  of  Green  Fancy.  I  know  her  well.  It  was 
through  Mr.  O'Dowd  that  I  came  to  Green  Fancy. 
Too  late  he  realised  that  it  was  a  mistake.  He  was 
deceived.  He  has  known  me  for  years  and  he  would 

not  have  exposed  me  to But  come !  As  he  has 

said,  we  are  not  yet  out  of  the  woods." 

"I  cannot,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  why  they  took 
chances  on  inviting  me  to  the  house,  Miss  Cameron. 
They  must  have  known  that " 

"It  was  a  desperate  chance  but  it  was  carefully 
considered,  you  may  be  sure.  They  are  clever,  all 
of  them.  They  were  afraid  of  you.  It  was  neces 
sary  to  deal  openly,  boldly,  with  you  if  your  suspi 
cions  were  to  be  removed." 

"But  they  must  have  known  that  you  would  appeal 
to  me." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  when  she  spoke 
it  was  with  great  intensity.  "Mr.  Barnes,  I  had 
your  life  in  my  hands  all  the  time  you  were  at  Green 
Fancy.  It  was  I  who  took  the  desperate  chance.  I 
shudder  now  when  I  think  of  what  might  have  hap 
pened.  Before  you  were  asked  to  the  house,  I  was 
coolly  informed  that  you  would  not  leave  it  alive  if 
I  so  much  as  breathed  a  word  to  you  concerning  my 
unhappy  plight.  The  first  word  of  an  appeal  to  you 
would  have  been  the  signal  for — for  your  death. 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       247 

That  is  what  they  held  over  me.  They  made  it  very 
clear  to  me  that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  an  ap 
peal  to  you.  You  would  die,  and  I  would  be  no  bet 
ter  off  than  before.  It  was  I  who  took  the  chance. 
When  I  spoke  to  you  on  the  couch  that  night,  I — oh, 
don't  you  see  ?  Don't  you  see  that  I  wantonly,  cruel 
ly,  selfishly  risked  your  life, — not  my  own, — when 
I " 

"There,  there,  now!"  he  cried,  consolingly,  as  she 
put  her  hands  to  her  face  and  gave  way  to  sobs. 
"Don't  let  that  worry  you.  I  am  here  and  alive,  and 
so  are  you,  and — for  Heaven's  sake  don't  do  that! 
I — I  simply  go  all  to  pieces  when  I  hear  a  woman 
crying.  I " 

"Forgive  me,"  she  murmured.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
be  so  silly." 

"It  helps,  to  cry  sometimes,"  he  said  lamely. 

The  first  faint  signs  of  day  were  struggling  out 
of  the  night  when  they  stole  across  the  road  above 
Hart's  Tavern  and  made  their  way  through  the  sta 
ble-yard  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  His  one  thought 
was  to  get  her  safely  inside  the  Tavern.  There  he 
could  defy  the  legions  of  Green  Fancy,  and  from 
there  he  could  notify  her  real  friends,  deliver  her  into 
their  keeping, — and  then  regret  the  loss  of  her ! 

The  door  was  locked.  He  delivered  a  series  of  re 
sounding  kicks  upon  its  stout  face.  Revolver  in 
hand,  he  faced  about  and  waited  for  the  assault  of 
the  men  who,  he  was  sure,  would  come  plunging 
around  the  corner  of  the  building  in  response  to  the 
racket.  He  was  confident  that  the  approach  to  the 


248  GREEN  FANCY 

Tavern  was  watched  by  desperate  men  from  Green 
Fancy,  and  that  an  encounter  with  them  was  in 
evitable.  But  there  was  no  attack.  Save  for  his 
repeated  pounding  on  the  door,  there  was  no  sign 
of  life  about  the  place. 

At  last  there  were  sounds  from  within.  A  key 
grated  in  the  lock  and  a  bolt  was  shot.  The  door 
flew  open.  Mr.  Clarence  Dillingford  appeared  in  the 
opening,  partially  dressed,  his  hair  sadly  tumbled, 
his  eyes  blinking  in  the  light  of  the  lantern  he  held 
aloft. 

"Well,  what  the "  Then  his  gaze  alighted  on 

the  lady.  "My  God,"  he  gulped,  and  instantly  put 
all  of  his  body  except  the  head  and  one  arm  behind 
the  door. 

Barnes  crowded  past  him  with  his  faltering 
charge,  and  slammed  the  door.  Moreover,  he  quick 
ly  shot  the  bolt. 

"For  the  love  of "  began  the  embarrassed 

Dillingford.  "What  the  dev —  I  say,  can't  you  see 
that  I'm  not  dressed?  What  the " 

"Give  me  that  lantern,"  said  Barnes,  and 
snatched  the  article  out  of  the  unresisting  hand. 
"Show  me  the  way  to  Miss  Thackeray's  room,  Dil 
lingford.  No  time  for  explanations.  This  lady  is 
a  friend  of  mine." 

"Well,  for  the  love  of " 

"I  will  take  you  to  Miss  Thackeray's  room,"  said 
Barnes,  leading  her  swiftly  through  the  narrow 
passage.  "She  will  make  you  comfortable  for  the — 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       249 

that  is  until  I  am  able  to  secure  a  room  for  you. 
Come  on,  Dillingford." 

"My  God,  Barnes,  have  you  been  in  an  automo 
bile  smash-up?  You " 

"Don't  wake  the  house]     Where  is  her  room?" 

"You  know  just  as  well  as  I  do.  All  right, — all 
right!  Don't  bite  me!  I'm  coming." 

Miss  Thackeray  was  awake.  She  had  heard  the 
pounding.  Through  the  closed  door  she  asked  what 
on  earth  was  the  matter. 

"I  have  a  friend  here* — a  lady.  Will  you  dress 
as  quickly  as  possible  and  take  her  in  with  you  for 
a  little  while?"  He  spoke  as  softly  as  possible. 

There  was  no  immediate  response  from  the  inside. 
Then  Miss  Thackeray  observed,  quite  coldly:  "I 
think  I'd  like  to  hear  the  lady's  voice,  if  you  don't 
mind.  I  recognise  yours  perfectly,  Mr.  Barnes,  but 
I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  opening  my " 

"Mr.  Barnes  speaks  the  truth,"  said  Miss  Cam 
eron.  "But  pray  do  not  disturb " 

"I  guess  I  don't  need  to  dress,"  said  Miss  Thack 
eray,  and  opened  her  door.  "Come  in,  please.  I 
don't  know  who  you  are  or  what  you've  been  up  to, 
but  there  are  times  when  women  ought  to  stand  to 
gether.  And  what's  more,  I  sha'n't  ask  any  ques 
tions." 

She  closed  the  door  behind  the  unexpected  guest, 
and  Barnes  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"Say,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  Miss  Thackeray,  sev 
eral  hours  later,  coming  upon  him  in  the  hall;  "I 


250  GREEN  FANCY 

guess  I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  explain  a  little.  She's 
a  nice,  pretty  girl,  and  all  that,  but  she  won't  open 
her  lips  about  anything.  She  says  you  will  do  the 
talking.  I'm  a  good  sport,  you  know,  and  not  espe 
cially  finicky,  but  I'd  like  to " 

"How  is  she?  Is  she  resting?  Does  she 
seem " 

"Well,  she's  stretched  out  in  my  bed,  with  my  best 
nightie  on,  and  she  seems  to  be  doing  as  well  as  could 
be  expected,"  said  Miss  Thackeray  dryly. 

"Has  she  had  coffee  and " 

"I  am  going  after  it  now.  It  seems  that  she  is  in 
the  habit  of  having  it  in  bed.  I  wish  I  had  her  im 
agination.  It  would  be  great  to  imagine  that  all 
you  have  to  do  is  to  say  'I  think  I'll  have  coffee  and 
rolls  and  one  egg*  sent  up,  and  then  go  on  believing 
your  wish  would  come  true.  Still,  I  don't  mind. 
She  seems  so  nice  and  pathetic,  and  in  trouble,  and 
I " 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Thackeray.  If  you  will  see 
that  she  has  her  coffee,  I'll — I'll  wait  for  you  here 
in  the  hall  and  try  to  explain.  I  can't  tell  you  every 
thing  at  present, — not  without  her  consent, — but 
what  I  do  tell  will  be  sufficient  to  make  you  think  you 
are  listening  to  a  chapter  out  of  a  dime  novel." 

He  had  already  taken  Putnam  Jones  into  his  con 
fidence.  He  saw  no  other  way  out  of  the  new  and 
somewhat  extraordinary  situation. 

His  uneasiness  increased  to  consternation  when 
he  discovered  that  Sprouse  had  not  yet  put  in  an 
appearance.  What  had  become  of  the  man?  He 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       251 

could  not  help  feeling,  however,  that  somehow  the 
little  agent  would  suddenly  pop  out  of  the  chimney 
in  his  room,  or  sneak  in  through  a  crack  under  the 
door, — and  laugh  at  his  fears. 

His  lovely  companion,  falling  asleep,  blocked  all 
hope  of  a  council  of  war,  so  to  speak.  Miss  Thack 
eray  refused  to  allow  her  to  be  disturbed.  She  lis 
tened  with  sparkling  eyes  to  Barnes's  curtailed  ac 
count  of  the  exploit  of  the  night  before.  He  failed 
to  mention  Mr.  Sprouse.  It  was  not  an  oversight. 

"Sort  of  white  slavery  game,  eh?"  she  said,  with 
bated  breath.  "Good  gracious,  Mr.  Barnes,  if  this 
story  ever  gets  into  the  newspapers  you'll  be  the 
grandest  little  hero  in " 

"But  it  must  never  get  into  the  newspapers,"  he 
cried. 

"It  ought  to,"  she  proclaimed  stoutly.  "When 
a  gang  of  white  slavers  kidnap  a  girl  like  that 
and " 

"I'm  not  saying  it  was  that,"  he  protested,  un 
comfortably. 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  talk  to  her  about  that  part  of 
the  story,"  said  Miss  Thackeray  sagely,  "And  as 
you  say,  mum's  the  word.  We  don't  want  them  to 
get  onto  the  fact  that  she's  here.  That's  the  idea, 
isn't  it?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Then,"  she  said,  wrinkling  her  brow,  "I  wouldn't 
repeat  this  story  to  Mr.  Lyndon  Rushcroft,  father 
of  yours  truly.  He  would  blab  it  all  over  the 
county.  The  greatest  press  stuff  in  the  world. 


252  GREEN  FANCY 

Listen  to  it:  'Lyndon  Rushcroft,  the  celebrated 
actor,  takes  part  in  the  rescue  of  a  beautiful  heiress 
who  falls  into  the  hands  of  So  and  So,  the  king  of 
kidnappers.'  That's  only  a  starter.  So  we'd  better 
let  him  think  she  just  happened  in.  You  fix  it  with 
old  Jones,  and  I'll  see  that  Dilly  keeps  his  mouth 
shut.  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  tell  Mr.  Bacon."  She 
blushed.  "I  have  always  sworn  I'd  never  marry  any 
one  in  the  profession,  but — Mr.  Bacon  is  not  like 
other  actors,  Mr.  Barnes.  You  will  say  so  yourself 
when  you  know  him  better.  He  is  more  like  a — a — 
well,  you  might  say  a  poet.  His  soul  is — but,  you'll 
think  I'm  nutty  if  I  go  on  about  him.  As  soon  as 
she  awakes,  I'll  take  her  up  to  the  room  you've 
engaged  for  her,  and  I'll  lend  her  some  of  my  duds, 
bless  her  heart.  What  an  escape  she's  had!  Oh, 
my  God!" 

She  uttered  the  exclamation  in  a  voice  so  full  of 
horror  that  Barnes  was  startled. 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Thack " 

"Why,  they  might  have  nabbed  me  yesterday 
when  I  was  up  there  in  the  woods!  And  I  don't 
know  what  kind  of  heroism  goes  with  a  poetic  na 
ture.  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Bacon " 

He  laughed.  "I  am  sure  he  would  have  acted  like 
a  man." 

"If  you  were  to  ask  father,  he'd  say  that  Mr. 
Bacon  can't  act  like  a  man  to  save  his  soul.  He 
says  he  acts  like  a  fence-post." 

Shortly  before  the  noon  hour,  Peter  Ames  halted 
the  old  automobile  from  Green  Fancy  in  front  of 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       253 

the  Tavern  and  out  stepped  O'Dowd,  followed  by 
no  less  a  personage  than  the  pseudo  Mr.  Loeb. 
There  were  a  number  of  travelling  bags  in  the  ton- 
neau  of  the  car. 

Catching  sight  of  Barnes,  the  Irishman  shouted  a 
genial  greeting. 

"The  top  of  the  morning  to  ye.  You  remember 
Mr.  Loeb,  don't  you?  Mr.  Curtis's  secretary." 

He  shook  hands  with  Barnes.  Loeb  bowed  stiffly 
and  did  not  extend  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Loeb  is  leaving  us  for  a  few  days  on  busi 
ness.  Will  you  be  moving  on  yourself  soon,  Mr. 
Barnes  ?" 

"I  shall  hang  around  here  a  few  days  longer," 
said  Barnes,  considerably  puzzled  but  equal  to  the 
occasion.  "Still  interested  in  our  murder  mystery, 
you  know." 

"Any  new  developments?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge."  He  ventured  a  crafty 
"feeler."  "I  hear,  however,  that  the  state  authori 
ties  have  asked  assistance  of  the  secret  service  peo 
ple  in  Washington.  That  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  there  is  more  behind  the  affair  than " 

"Have  I  not  maintained  from  the  first,  Mr. 
O'Dowd,  that  it  is  a  case  for  the  government  to  han 
dle?"  interrupted  Loeb.  He  spoke  rapidly  and  with 
unmistakable  nervousness.  Barnes  remarked  the  ex 
traordinary  pallor  in  the  man's  face  and  the  shifty, 
uneasy  look  in  his  dark  eyes.  "It  has  been  my  con 
tention,  Mr.  Barnes,  that  those  men  were  trying  to 
carry  out  their  part  of  a  plan  to  inflict " 


254  GREEN  FANCY 

"Lord  love  ye,  Loeb,  you  are  not  alone  in  that 
theory,"  broke  in  O'Dowd  hastily.  "I  think  we're 
all  agreed  on  that.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Boneface," 
he  called  out  to  Putnam  Jones  who  approached  at 
that  juncture.  "We  are  sadly  in  want  of  gasoline." 

Peter  had  backed  the  car  up  to  the  gasoline  hy 
drant  at  the  corner  of  the  building  and  was  waiting 
for  some  one  to  replenish  his  tank.  Barnes  caught 
the  queer,  perplexed  look  that  the  Irishman  shot 
at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"Perhaps  you'd  better  see  that  the  scoundrels 
don't  give  us  short  measure,  Mr.  Loeb,"  said 
O'Dowd.  Loeb  hesitated  for  a  second,  and  then, 
evidently  in  obedience  to  a  command  from  the  speak 
er's  eye,  moved  off  to  where  Peter  was  opening  the 
intake.  Jones  followed,  bawling  to  some  one  in  the 
stable-yard. 

O'Dowd  lowered  his  voice.  "Bedad,  your  friend 
made  a  smart  job  of  it  last  night.  He  opened  the 
tank  back  of  the  house  and  let  every  damn'  bit  of 
our  gas  run  out.  Is  she  safe  inside?" 

"Yes,  thanks  to  you,  old  man.  You  didn't  catch 
him?" 

"Not  even  a  whiff  of  him,"  said  the  other  lugu 
briously.  "The  devil's  to  pay.  In  the  name  of  God, 
how  many  were  in  your  gang  last  night?" 

"That  is  for  Mr.  Loeb  to  find  out,"  said  Barnes 
shrewdly. 

"Barnes,  I  let  you  off  last  night,  and  I  let  her  off 
as  well.  In  return,  I  ask  you  to  hold  your  tongue 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       255 

until  the  man  down  there  gets  a  fair  start."  O'Dowd 
was  serious,  even  imploring. 

"What  would  she  say  to  that,  O'Dowd?  I  have 
to  consider  her  interests,  you  know." 

"She'd  give  him  a  chance  for  his  white  alley,  I'm 
sure,  in  spite  of  the  way  he  treated  her.  There  is 
a  great  deal  at  stake,  Barnes.  A  day's  start 
and " 

"Are  you  in  danger  too,  O'Dowd?" 

"To  be  sure, — but  I  love  it.  I  can  always  squirm 
out  of  tight  places.  You  see,  I  am  putting  myself 
in  your  hands,  old  man." 

"I  would  not  deliberately  put  you  in  jeopardy, 
O'Dowd." 

"See  here,  I  am  going  back  to  that  house  up  yon 
der.  There  is  still  work  for  me  there.  What  I'm 
after  now  is  to  get  him  on  the  train  at  Hornville. 
I'll  be  here  again  at  four  o'clock,  on  me  word  of 
honour.  Trust  me,  Barnes.  When  I  explain  to  her, 
she'll  agree  that  I'm  doing  the  right  thing.  Be- 
dad,  the  whole  bally  game  is  busted.  Another  week 
and  we'd  have — but,  there  ye  are !  It's  all  up  in  the 
air,  thanks  to  you  and  your  will-o'-the-wisp  rascals. 
You  played  the  deuce  with  everything." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  coming  back 
here  to  run  the  risk  of  being " 

"We've  had  word  that  the  government  has  men  on 
the  way.  They'll  be  here  to-night  or  to-morrow, 
working  in  cahoots  with  the  fellows  across  the  bor 
der.  Why,  damn  it  all,  Barnes,  don't  you  know  who 
it  was  that  engineered  that  whole  business  last 


256  GREEN  FANCY 

night?"  He  blurted  it  out  angrily,  casting  off  all 
reserve. 

Barnes  smiled.  "I  do.  He  is  a  secret  agent  from 
the  embassy " 

"Secret  granny!"  almost  shouted  O'Dowd.  "He 
is  the  slickest,  cleverest  crook  that  ever  drew  the 
breath  of  life.  And  he's  got  away  with  the  jewels, 
for  which  you  can  whistle  in  vain,  I'm  thinking." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  O'Dowd "  began  Barnes, 

his  blood  like  ice  in  his  veins. 

"But  don't  take  my  word  for  it.  Ask  her, — up 
stairs  there,  God  bless  her. — ask  her  if  she  knows 
Chester  Naismith.  She'll  tell  ye,  my  bucko.  He's 
been  standing  guard  outside  her  window  for  the  past 
three  nights.  He's " 

"Now,  I  know  you  are  mistaken,"  cried  Barnes, 
a  wave  of  relief  surging  over  him,  "He  has  been  in 
this  Tavern  every  night " 

"Sure  he  has.  But  he  never  was  here  after  eleven 
o'clock,  was  he?  Answer  me,  did  ye  ever  see  him 
here  after  eleven  in  the  evening?  You  did  not, — not 
until  last  night,  anyhow.  In  the  struggle  he  had 
with  Nicholas  last  night  his  whiskers  came  off  and 
he  was  recognised.  That's  why  poor  old  Nicholas 
is  lying  dead  up  there  at  the  house  now, — and  will 
have  a  decent  burial  unbeknownst  to  anybody  but  his 
friends." 

"Whiskers?     Dead?"  jerked  from  Barnes's  lips. 

"Didn't  you  know  he  had  false  ones  on?" 

"He  did  not  have  them  on  when  he  left  me,"  de- 


LARGE  BODIES  MOVE  SLOWLY       257 

clared  Barnes.  **Good  God,  O'Dowd,  you  can't 
mean  that  he — he  killed " 

"He  stuck  a  knife  in  his  neck.  The  poor  devil 
died  while  I  was  out  skirmishing,  but  not  before  he 
whispered  in  the  chiefs  ear  the  name  of  the  man  who 
did  for  him.  The  dirty  snake !  And  the  chief  trust 
ed  him  as  no  crook  ever  was  trusted  before.  He 
knew  him  for  what  he  was,  but  he  thought  he  was 
loyal.  And  this  is  what  he  gets  in  return  for  sav 
ing  the  dog's  life  in  Buda  Pesth  three  years  ago. 
In  the  name  of  God,  Barnes,  how  did  you  happen  to 
fall  in  with  the  villain?" 

Barnes  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow,  dazed  be 
yond  the  power  of  speech.  His  gaze  rested  on  Put 
nam  Jones.  Suddenly  something  seemed  to  have 
struck  him  between  the  eyes.  He  almost  staggered 
under  the  imaginary  impact.  Jones !  Was  Jones  a 

party  to  this He  started  forward,  an  oath  on 

his  lips,  prepared  to  leap  upon  the  man  and  throttle 
the  truth  out  of  him.  As  abruptly  he  checked  him 
self.  The  cunning  that  inspired  the  actions  of  every 
one  of  these  people  had  communicated  itself  to  him. 
A  false  move  now  would  ruin  everything.  Putnam 
Jones  would  have  to  be  handled  with  gloves,  and 
gently  at  that. 

"He — he  represented  himself  as  a  book-agent,"  he 
mumbled,  striving  to  collect  himself.  "Jones  knew 

him.  Said  he  had  been  around  here  for  weeks.  I — 
j » 

"That's  the  man,"  said  O'Dowd,  scowling.  "He 
trotted  all  over  the  county,  selling  books.  For  the 


258  GREEN  FANCY 

love  of  it,  do  ye  think?  Not  much.  He  had  other 
fish  to  fry,  you  may  be  sure.  I  talked  with  him  the 
night  you  dined  at  Green  Fancy.  He  beat  you  to 
the  Tavern,  I  dare  say.  It  was  his  second  night  on 
guard  below  the — below  her  window.  He  told  me 
how  he  shinned  up  and  down  one  of  these  porch 
posts,  so  as  not  to  let  old  Jones  get  onto  the  fact  he 
was  out  of  his  room.  He  had  old  Jones  fooled  as 

badly What  are  you  glaring  at  him  for?  I  was 

about  to  say  he  had  old  Jones  as  badly  fooled  as 
you — or  worse,  damn  him.  Barnes,  if  we  ever  lay 
hands  on  that  friend  of  yours, — well,  he  won't  have 
to  fry  in  hell.  He'll  be  burnt  alive.  Thank  God, 
my  mind's  at  rest  on  one  score.  She  didn't  skip 
out  with  him.  They  all  think  she  did.  Not  one  of 
them  suspects  that  she  came  away  with  you.  There 
is  plenty  of  evidence  that  she  let  him  in  through  her 
window " 

"All  ready,  O'Dowd,"  called  Loeb.  "Come  along, 
please." 

"Coming,"  said  the  Irishman.  To  Barnes: 
"Don't  blame  yourself,  old  man.  You  are  not  the 
only  one  who  has  been  hoodwinked.  He  fooled  men 

a  long  shot  keener  than  you  are,  so All  right! 

Coming.  See  you  later,  Barnes.  So  long !" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    FIRST    WAYFARER    VISITS    A    SHRINE,    CONFESSES, 
AND    TAKES    AN    OATH 

HOW  was  he  to  find  the  courage  to  impart  the 
appalling  news  to  her?  He  was  now  con 
vinced  beyond  all  doubt  that  the  so-called 
Sprouse  had  made  off  with  the  priceless  treasure  and 
that  only  a  miracle  could  bring  about  its  recovery. 
O'Dowd's  estimate  of  the  man's  cleverness  was  am 
ply  supported  by  what  Barnes  knew  of  him.  He 
knew  him  to  be  the  personification  of  craftiness,  and 
of  daring.  It  was  not  surprising  that  he  had  been 
tricked  by  this  devil's  own  genius.  He  recalled  his 
admiration,  his  wonder  over  the  man's  artfulness ; 
he  groaned  as  he  thought  of  the  pride  he  had  felt 
in  being  accorded  the  privilege  of  helping  him ! 

Sitting  glumly  in  a  corner  of  the  tap-room,  watch 
ing  but  not  listening  to  the  spouting  Mr.  Rushcroft, 
(who  was  regaling  the  cellarer  and  two  vastly  im 
pressed  countrymen  with  the  story  of  his  appearance 
before  Queen  Victoria  and  the  Royal  Family), 
Barnes  went  over  the  events  of  the  past  twenty-four 
hours,  deriving  from  his  reflections  a  few  fairly  rea 
sonable  deductions  as  to  his  place  in  the  plans  of  the 
dauntless  Mr.  Sprouse. 

259 


, 

260  GREEN  FANCY 

In  the  first  place,  Sprouse,  being  aware  of  his 
somewhat  ardent  interest  in  the  fair  captive,  took  a 
long  and  desperate  chance  on  his  susceptibility. 
With  incomprehensible  boldness  he  decided  to  make 
an  accomplice  of  the  eager  and  unsuspecting  knight- 
errant  !  His  cunningly  devised  tale, — in  which  there 
was  more  than  a  little  of  the  truth, — served  to  excite 
the  interest  and  ultimately  to  win  the  co-operation  of 
the  New  Yorker.  His  object  in  enlisting  this  sup 
port  was  now  perfectly  clear  to  the  victim  of  his  du 
plicity.  Barnes  had  admitted  that  he  was  bound 
by  a  promise  to  aid  the  prisoner  in  an  effort  to  es 
cape  from  the  house;  even  a  slow-witted  person 
would  have  reached  the  conclusion  that  a  partial 
understanding  at  least  existed  between  captive  and 
champion.  Sprouse  staked  everything  on  that  con 
viction.  Through  Barnes  he  counted  on  effecting 
an  entrance  to  the  almost  hermetically  sealed  house. 

Evidently  the  simplest,  and  perhaps  the  only, 
means  of  gaining  admission  was  through  the  very 
window  he  was  supposed  to  guard.  Once  inside  her 
room,  with  the  aid  and  connivance  of  one  in  whom 
the  occupant  placed  the  utmost  confidence,  he  would 
be  in  a  position  to  employ  his  marvellous  talents  in 
accomplishing  his  own  peculiar  ends. 

Barnes  recalled  all  of  the  elaborate  details  pre 
liminary  to  the  actual  performance  of  that  amazing 
feat,  and  realised  to  what  extent  he  had  been  shaped 
into  a  tool  to  be  used  by  the  master  craftsman.  He 
saw  through  the  whole  Machiavellian  scheme,  and 


VISIT,  CONFESSION  AND  AN  OATH     261 

he  was  now  morally  certain  that  Sprouse  would  have 
sacrificed  him  without  the  slightest  hesitation. 

In  the  event  that  anything  went  wrong  with  their 
enterprise,  the  man  would  have  shot  him  dead  and 
earned  the  gratitude  and  commendation  of  his  as 
sociates  !  There  would  be  no  one  to  question  him, 
no  one  to  say  that  he  had  failed  in  the  duty  set 
upon  him  by  the  master  of  the  house.  He  would 
have  been  glorified  and  not  crucified  by  his  friends. 

Up  to  the  point  when  he  actually  passed  through 
the  window  Sprouse  could  have  justified  himself  by 
shooting  the  would-be  rescuer.  Up  to  that  point, 
Barnes  was  of  inestimable  value  to  him;  after  that, 
— well,  he  had  proved  that  he  was  capable  of  taking 
care  of  himself. 

Mr.  Dillingford  came  and  pronounced  sentence. 
He  informed  the  rueful  thinker  that  the  young  lady 
wanted  to  see  him  at  once  in  Miss  Thackeray's 
room. 

With  a  heavy  heart  he  mounted  the  stairs.  At  the 
top  he  paused  to  deliberate.  Would  it  not  be  bet 
ter  to  keep  her  in  ignorance?  What  was  to  be 
gained  by  revealing  to  her  the But  Miss  Thack 
eray  was  luring  him  on  to  destruction.  She  stood 
outside  the  door  and  beckoned.  That  in  itself  was 
ominous.  Why  should  she  wriggle  a  forefinger  at 
him  instead  of  calling  out  in  her  usual  free-and-easy 
manner?  There  was  foreboding 

"Is  Mr.  Barnes  coming?"  His  heart  bounded 
perceptibly  at  the  sound  of  that  soft,  eager  voice 
from  the  interior  of  the  room. 


262  GREEN  FANCY 

"By  fits  and  starts,"  said  Miss  Thackeray  crit 
ically.  "Yes,  he  has  started  again.'* 

She  closed  the  door  from  the  outside,  and  Barnes 
was  alone  with  the  cousin  of  kings  and  queens  and 
princes. 

"I  feared  you  had  deserted  me,"  she  said,  holding 
out  her  hand  to  him  as  he  strode  across  the  room. 
She  did  not  rise  from  the  chair  in  which  she  was 
seated  by  the  window.  The  lower  wings  of  the  old- 
fashioned  shutters  were  closed  except  for  a  narrow 
strip ;  light  streamed  down  upon  her  wavy  golden 
hair  from  the  upper  half  of  the  casement.  She  was 
attired  in  a  gorgeously  flowered  dressing-gown;  lie 
had  seen  it  once  before,  draping  the  matutinal  figure 
of  Miss  Thackeray  as  she  glided  through  the  hall 
with  a  breakfast  tray  which  Miss  Tilly  had  flatly 
refused  to  carry  to  her  room:  being  no  servant,  she 
declared  with  heat. 

"I  saw  no  occasion  to  disturb  your  rest,"  he  mum 
bled.  "Nothing — nothing  new  has  turned  up." 

"I  have  been  peeping,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
searchingly.  A  little  line  of  anxiety  lay  between 
her  eyes.  "Where  is  Mr.  Loeb  going,  Mr.  Barnes?" 

He  noted  the  omission  of  Mr.  O'Dowd.  "To 
Hornville,  I  believe.  They  stopped  for  gasoline." 

"Is  he  running  away?"  was  her  disconcerting  ques 
tion. 

"O'Dowd  says  he  is  to  be  gone  for  a  few  days  on 
business,"  he  equivocated. 

"He  will  not  return,"  she  said  quietly.     "He  is 


VISIT,  CONFESSION  AND  AN  OATH     263 

a  coward  at  heart.  Oh,  I  know  him  well,"  she  went 
on,  scorn  in  her  voice. 

"Was  I  wrong  in  not  trying  to  stop  him?"  he 
asked. 

She  pondered  this  for  a  moment.  "No,"  she  said, 
but  he  caught  the  dubious  note  in  her  voice.  "It  is 
just  as  well,  perhaps,  that  he  should  disappear. 
Nothing  is  to  be  gained  now  by  his  seizure.  Next 
week,  yes ;  but  to-day,  no.  His  flight  to-day  spares 
— but  we  are  more  interested  in  the  man  Sprouse. 
Has  he  returned?" 

"No,  Miss  Cameron,"  said  he  ruefully.  And  then, 
without  a  single  reservation,  he  laid  bare  the  story 
of  Sprouse's  defection.  When  he  inquired  if  she 
had  heard  of  the  man  known  as  Chester  Naismith, 
she  confirmed  his  worst  fears  by  describing  him  as 
the  guard  who  watched  beneath  her  window.  He  was 
known  to  her  as  a  thief  of  international  fame.  The 
light  died  out  of  her  lovely  eyes  as  the  truth  dawned 
upon  her;  her  lips  trembled,  her  shoulders  drooped. 

"What  a  fool  I've  been,"  she  mourned.  "What  a 
fool  I  was  to  accept  the  responsibility  of " 

"Don't  blame  yourself,"  he  implored.  "Blame 
me.  I  am  the  fool,  the  stupidest  fool  that  ever  lived. 
He  played  with  me  as  if  I  were  the  simplest  child." 

"Ah,  my  friend,  why  do  you  say  that?  Played 
with  you?  He  has  tricked  some  of  the  shrewdest 
men  in  the  world.  There  are  no  simple  children  at 
Green  Fancy.  They  are  men  with  the  brains  of 
foxes  and  the  hearts  of  wolves.  To  deceive  you  was 
child's  play.  You  are  an  honest  man.  It  is  always 


264  GREEN  FANCY 

the  honest  man  who  is  the  victim ;  he  is  never  the  cul 
prit.  If  honest  men  were  as  smart  as  the  corrupt 
ones,  Mr.  Barnes,  there  would  be  no  such  thing  as 
crime.  If  the  honest  man  kept  one  hand  on  his  purse 
and  the  other  on  his  revolver,  he  would  be  more  than 
a  match  for  the  thief.  You  were  no  match  for 
Chester  Naismith.  Do  not  look  so  glum.  The 
shrewdest  police  officers  in  Europe  have  never  been 
able  to  cope  with  him.  Why  should  you  despair?" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  "By  gad,  he  hasn't  got 
away  with  it  yet,"  he  grated.  "He  is  only  one  man 
against  a  million.  I  will  set  every  cog  in  the  entire 
police  and  detective  machinery  of  the  United  States 
going.  He  cannot  escape.  They  will  run  him  to 
earth  before " 

"Mr.  Barnes,  I  have  no  words  to  express  my  grati 
tude  to  you  for  all  that  you  have  done  and  all  that 
you  still  would  do,"  she  interrupted.  "I  may  prove 
it  to  you,  however,  by  advising  you  to  abandon 
all  efforts  to  help  me  from  now  on.  You  did  all  that 
you  set  out  to  do,  and  I  must  ask  no  more  of  you. 
You  risked  your  life  to  save  a  woman  who,  for  all 
you  know,  may  be  deceiving  you  with " 

"I  have  not  lost  all  of  my  senses,  Miss  Cameron," 
he  said  bluntly.  "The  few  that  I  retain  make  me 
your  slave.  I  shall  abandon  neither  you  nor  the  ef 
fort  to  recover  what  my  stupidity  has  cost  you.  I 
will  run  this  scoundrel  down  if  I  have  to  devote  the 
remainder  of  my  life  to  the  task." 

She  sighed.  "Alas,  I  fear  that  I  shall  have  to  tell 
you  a  little  more  about  this  wonderful  man  you  know 


as  Sprouse.  Six  months  ago  the  friends  and  sup 
porters  of  the  legitimate  successor  to  my  country's 
throne,  consummated  a  plan  whereby  the  crown  jew 
els  and  certain  documents  of  state  were  surrepti 
tiously  removed  from  the  palace  vaults.  The  act, 
though  meant  to  be  a  loyal  and  worthy  one,  was 
nevertheless  nullified  by  the  most  stupendous  folly. 
Instead  of  depositing  the  treasure  in  Paris,  it  was 
sent  to  this  country  in  charge  of  a  group  of  men 
whose  fealty  could  not  be  questioned.  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  tell  you  how  this  treasure  was  brought 
into  the  United  States  without  detection  by  the  Cus 
toms  authorities.  Suffice  it  to  say,  it  was  delivered 
safely  to  a  committee  of  my  countrymen  in  New 
York.  There  are  two  contenders  for  the  throne  in 
my  land.  One  is  a  prisoner  in  Austria,  the  other  is 
at  liberty  somewhere  in — in  the  world.  The  Teu 
tonic  Allies  are  now  in  possession  of  my  country. 
It  has  been  ravished  and  despoiled." 

"So  far  Sprouse's  story  jibes,"  said  he,  as  she 
paused. 

"My  countrymen  conceived  the  notion  that  Ger 
many  would  one  day  conquer  France  and  over-run 
England.  It  was  this  notion  that  urged  them  to  put 
the  treasure  beyond  all  possible  chance  of  its  being 
seized  by  the  conquerors  and  turned  over  to  the 
usurping  prince  who  would  be  placed  on  our  throne. 

"As  for  my  part  in  this  unhappy  project,  it  is 
quite  simple.  I  was  not  the  only  one  to  be  deceived 
by  plotters  who  far  outstripped  the  original  con 
spirators  in  cleverness  and  guile.  The  man  you 


266  GREEN  FANCY 

know  as  Loeb  is  in  reality  my  cousin.  I  have  known 
him  all  my  life.  He  is  the  youngest  brother  of  the 
pretender  to  the  throne,  and  a  cousin  of  the  prince 
who  is  held  prisoner  by  the  Austrians.  This  prince 
has  a  brother  also,  and  it  was  to  him  that  I  was 
supposed  to  deliver  the  jewels.  He  came  to  Canada 
a  month  ago,  sent  by  the  embassy  in  Paris.  I  trav 
elled  from  New  York,  but  not  alone  as  you  may  sus 
pect.  I  was  carefully  protected  from  the  time  I  left 
my  hotel  there  until — well,  until  I  arrived  in  Boston. 

"While  there  I  received  a  secret  message  from 
friends  in  Canada  directing  me  to  go  to  Spanish 
Falls,  where  I  would  be  met  and  conducted  to  Green 
Fancy  by  Prince  Sebastian  himself.  I  was  on  my 
way  to  Halifax  when  this  message  changed  my  plans. 
Moreover,  the  reason  given  for  this  change  was  an 
excellent  one.  It  had  been  discovered  that  the  two 
men  who  acted  secretly  as  my  escort  were  traitors. 
They  were  to  lead  me  into  a  trap  prepared  at  Port 
land,  where  I  was  to  be  robbed  and  detained  long 
enough  for  the  wretches  to  make  off  in  safety  with 
their  booty.  I  need  not  describe  my  feelings.  I 
obeyed  the  directions  and  stole  away  at  night,  elud 
ing  my  protectors,  and  came  by  devious  ways  to  the 
place  mentioned  in  the  message. 

"As  you  may  have  guessed  by  this  time,  the  whole 
thing  was  a  carefully  planned  ruse.  The  company 
at  Green  Fancy, — you  may  some  day  know  why  they 
were  there, — learned  through  the  man  Naismith  that 
the  treasure  had  been  entrusted  to  me  for  delivery  to 
Prince  Sebastian  and  his  friends  in  Halifax.  Let 


VISIT,  CONFESSION  AND  AN  OATH     267 

me  interrupt  myself  to  explain  why  the  Prince  did 
not  come  to  New  York  in  person,  instead  of  arrang1- 
ing  to  have  the  jewels  taken  to  him  at  Halifax.  He 
is  an  officer  of  high  rank  in  the  army.  His  trip 
across  the  ocean  was  known  to  the  German  secret 
service.  The  instant  he  landed  on  American  soil,  a 
demand  would  have  been  made  by  the  German  Em 
bassy  for  his  detention  here  for  the  duration  of  the 
war. 

"I  was  informed  in  the  message  that  Prince  Se 
bastian  would  take  me  to  the  place  called  Green 
Fancy,  which  was  near  the  Canadian  border.  A  safe 
escort  would  be  provided  for  us,  and  we  would  be 
on  British  soil  within  a  few  hours  after  our  meeting. 
It  is  only  necessary  to  add  that  when  I  arrived  at 
Green  Fancy  I  met  Prince  Ugo, — and  understood! 
I  had  carefully  covered  my  tracks  after  leaving  Bos 
ton.  My  real  friends  were,  and  still  are,  completely 
in  the  dark  as  to  my  movements,  so  skilfully  was  the 
trick  managed.  I  shall  ask  you  directly,  Mr.  Barnes, 
to  wire  my  friends  in  New  York  and  in  Halifax,  ac 
quainting  them  with  my  present  whereabouts  and 
safety.  Now,  that  we  know  the  jewels  have  been 
stolen  again,  that  message  need  not  be  delayed. 

"And  now  for  Chester  Naismith.  It  was  he  who, 
acting  for  the  misguided  loyalists  and  recommended 
by  certain  young  aristocrats  who  by  virtue  of  their 
own  dissipations  had  come  to  know  him  as  a  man  of 
infinite  resourcefulness  and  daring,  planned  and 
carried  out  the  pillaging  of  the  palace  vaults.  Al 
most  under  the  noses  of  the  foreign  guards  he  sue- 


268  GREEN  FANCY 

ceeded  in  obtaining  the  jewels.  No  doubt  he  could 
have  made  off  with  them  at  that  time,  but  he  shrewd 
ly  preferred  to  have  them  brought  to  America  by 
some  one  else.  It  would  have  been  impossible  for 
him  to  dispose  of  them  in  Europe.  The  United 
States  was  the  only  place  in  the  world  where  he 
could  have  sold  them.  You  see  how  cunning  he  is? 

"This  much  I  know:  he  came  to  New  York  with 
the  men  who  carried  the  jewels.  He  tried  to  rob 
them  in  New  York  but  failed.  Then  he  disappeared. 
So  carefully  guarded  were  the  jewels  that  he  knew 
there  was  no  chance  of  securing  them  without  assist 
ance.  For  nearly  six  months  they  remained  in  a 
safety  vault  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Evidently  he  gave 
up  hope  and,  falling  in  with  Prince  Ugo,  joined  his 
party.  I  do  not  know  this  to  be  the  case,  but  I  am 
now  convinced  that  he  learned  of  the  plan  to  send 
the  jewels  to  Halifax.  It  was  he,  I  am  sure,  who 
conveyed  this  news  to  Prince  Ugo,  who  at  once  in 
vented  the  scheme  to  divert  me  to  this  place. 

"And  now  comes  the  remarkable  part  of  the  story. 
When  I  arrived  at  Spanish  Falls,  there  was  no  one 
to  meet  me.  The  agent,  seeing  me  on  the  platform 
and  evidently  at  a  loss  which  way  to  turn,  accosted 
me.  He  offered  to  secure  a  conveyance  for  me,  and 
was  very  considerate,  but  I  decided  to  call  up  Green 
Fancy  on  the  telephone.  I  wanted  to  be  sure  that 
there  was  no  trick.  To  my  surprise,  O'Dowd  came 
to  the  telephone.  I  was  greatly  relieved  when  I  ac 
tually  heard  his  voice.  I  have  known  him  for  years, 
and  the  belief  that  he  had  at  last  allied  himself  with 


Prince  Sebastian, — after  being  on  the  opposite  side, 
you  see, — was  cause  for  rejoicing. 

"He  was  amazed.  It  seems  that  I  was  not  ex 
pected  until  the  next  afternoon.  The  car  was  out 
on  an  errand  to  some  little  village  in  the  mountains, 
he  said,  but  he  would  telephone  at  once  to  see  if  it 
could  be  located.  Afterwards  it  turned  out  that  the 
message  announcing  my  arrival  a  day  ahead  of  the 
time  agreed  upon  was  never  delivered." 

"Sprouse's  fine  work,  I  suppose,"  put  in  Barnes. 

"I  haven't  the  remotest  doubt.  Nor  do  I  doubt 
that  he  intended  to  waylay  me  at  some  point  along 
the  road.  O'Dowd  failed  to  catch  the  car  at  the  vil 
lage  and  was  on  the  point  of  starting  off  on  horse 
back  to  meet  me,  when  it  returned.  He  sent  it  ahead 
and  followed  on  horseback.  You  know  how  I  was 
picked  up  at  the  cross-roads.  It  is  all  so  like  one 
of  those  picture  puzzles.  By  putting  the  meaning 
less  pieces  together  one  obtains  a  complete  design. 
The  last  piece  to  go  into  this  puzzle  is  the  mishap 
that  befel  Naismith  on  that  very  afternoon.  He  was 
no  doubt  thwarted  in  his  design  to  waylay  me  on 
the  road  from  Spanish  Falls  by  a  singular  occur 
rence  in  this  tavern.  He  was  attacked  in  his  room 
here  shortly  after  the  noon  hour,  overpowered,  bound 
and  gagged  by  two  men.  They  carried  him  to  an 
other  room,  where  he  remained  until  late  in  the  night 
when  he  managed  to  extricate  himself.  I  have  rea 
son  to  believe  that  this  part  of  his  story  is  true.  He 
knew  the  men.  They  were  thieves  as  clever  and  as 
merciless  as  himself.  They  too  were  watching  for 


270  GREEN  FANCY 

me.  I  may  say  to  you  now,  Mr.  Barnes,  that  he  has 
never  posed  as  an  honest  man  among  his  associates 
at  Green  Fancy.  He  glories  in  his  fame  as  a  thief, 
but  until  now  no  one  would  have  questioned  his  loy 
alty  to  his  friends.  I  do  not  know  how  these  men 
learned  of  my  intention  to  come  to  Green  Fancy. 
They " 

"They  came  to  this  tavern  four  or  five  days  in 
advance  of  your  arrival  at  Green  Fancy,"  he  inter 
rupted. 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"Absolutely." 

"In  that  case,  they  could  not  have  known,"  she 
said,  deeply  perplexed. 

"Sprouse  told  me  that  they  were  secret  service  men 
from  abroad  and  that  he  was  working  with  them. 
Putnam  Jones,  I  am  sure,  believes  that  they  were  de 
tectives.  He  also  believes  the  same  to  be  true  of 
Sprouse.  My  theory  is  this,  and  I  think  it  is  justi 
fied  by  events.  The  men  were  really  secret  agents, 
sent  here  to  watch  the  movements  of  the  gang  up 
there.  They  came  upon  Sprouse  and  recognised  him. 
On  the  day  mentioned  they  overpowered  him  and 
forced  him  to  reveal  certain  facts  connected  with 
affairs  at  Green  Fancy.  Possibly  he  led  them  to  be 
lieve  that  you  were  one  of  the  conspirators.  They 
waited  for  your  arrival  and  then  risked  the  hazard 
ous  trip  to  Green  Fancy.  They  were  discovered 
and  shot." 

She  could  hardly  wait  for  him  to  finish.  "I  be 
lieve  you  are  right,"  she  cried.  "A  little  while  be- 


VISIT,  CONFESSION  AND  AN  OATH     271 

fore  the  shooting  occurred,  the  house  was  roused  by 
a  telephone  call.  I  was  in  my  room,  but  not  asleep. 
I  had  just  realised  my  own  dreadful  predicament. 
There  was  a  great  commotion  downstairs,  and  I  dis 
tinctly  heard  some  one  say,  in  my  own  language, 
that  they  were  not  to  get  away  alive.  It  must  have 
been  Naismith  who  telephoned.  One  of  the  men,  I 
have  been  told,  was  killed  not  far  from  our  gates. 
He  was  shot,  I  am  sure,  by  the  man  called  Nicholas, 
noted  as  one  of  the  most  marvellous  marksmen  in 
our  little  army.  The  other  was  accounted  for  by 
Naismith  himself,  who  had  managed  to  reach  the 
cross-roads  in  time  to  head  him  off.  Naismith  open 
ly  boasted  of  the  feat.  The  greatest  consternation 
prevailed  at  Green  Fancy  because  the  men  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  highway  before  they  were  shot. 
Prince  Ugo  was  distracted.  He  said  that  the  at 
tention  of  the  public  would  be  directed  to  Green 
Fancy  and  curious  investigators  were  certain  to  in 
terfere  with  the  great  project  he  was  carrying  on." 

"I  believe  we  have  accounted  for  Mr.  Sprouse, 
and  I  am  no  longer  interested  in  the  unravelling  of 
the  mystery  surrounding  the  deaths  of  Roon  and 
Paul,"  said  he.  "There  is  nothing  to  keep  me  here 
any  longer,  Miss  Cameron.  I  suggest  that  you  al 
low  me  to  escort  you  at  once  to  your  friends,  wher 
ever  they " 

She  was  opposed  to  this  plan.  While  there  was 
still  a  chance  that  Sprouse  might  be  apprehended  in 
the  neighbourhood,  or  the  possibility  of  his  being 


GREEN  FANCY 

caught  by  the  relentless  pursuers,  she  declined  to 
leave. 

"Then,  I  shall  also  stay,"  said  he  promptly,  and 
was  repaid  by  the  tremulous  smile  she  gave  him.  His 
heart  was  beating  like  mad,  and  he  knew,  in  that  in 
stant,  just  what  had  happened  to  him.  He  was 
helplessly  in  love  with  this  beautiful  cousin  of  kings 
and  queens.  And  when  he  thought  of  kings  and 
queens  he  realised  that  beyond  all  question  his  love 
was  hopeless. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  she  said  softly. 

He  got  up  suddenly  and  walked  away.  After  a 
moment,  in  which  he  regained  control  of  himself,  he 
returned  to  her  side. 

"What  effect  will  Mr.  Loeb's  flight  have  on  the 
scheme  up  there,  Miss  Cameron?"  he  inquired,  quite 
steadily. 

"They  will  scatter  to  the  four  winds,  those  peo 
ple,**  she  said.  "He  would  not  have  fled  unless  dis 
aster  was  staring  him  in  the  face.  Something  has 
transpired  to  defeat  his  ugly  plan.  They  will  all 
run  to  cover  like  so  many  rats." 

"The  government  of  the  United  States  is  a  good 
rat-catcher,"  he  said. 

"The  United  States  would  do  well  to  keep  the  rats 
out,  Mr.  Barnes,  instead  of  allowing  them  to  come 
here  and  thrive  and  multiply  and  gnaw  into  its  very 
vitals." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    SECOND    WAYFARER   IS    TRANSFORMED,    AND    MAR 
RIAGE   IS    FLOUTED 

MR.  RUSHCROFT  sent  for  Barnes  at  three 
o'clock. 
"Come  to  my  room  as  soon  as  possible," 
was  the  message  delivered  by  Mr.  Bacon.  Barnes 
was  taking  a  nap.  More  than  that,  he  was  pleas 
antly  dreaming  when  the  pounding  fell  upon  his 
door.  Awakened  suddenly  from  this  elysian  dream 
he  leaped  from  his  bed  and  rushed  to  the  door,  his 
heart  in  his  mouth.  Something  sinister  was  back 
of  this  imperative  summons !  She  was  in  fresh  peril. 
The  gang  from  Green  Fancy  had  descended  upon 
the  Tavern  in  force  and 

"Sorry  to  disturb  you,"  said  Mr.  Bacon,  as  the 
door  flew  open,  "but  he  says  it's  important.  He 
says n 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  him  to  go  to  the  devil,"  said 
Barnes  wrathfully. 

"Superfluous,  I  assure  you,  sir.  He  says  that 
everything  and  everybody  is  going  to  the  devil, 

"If  he  wants  to  see  me  why  doesn't  he  come  to  my 
room?  Why  should  I  go  to  his?" 

273 


274  GREEN  FANCY 

"Lord  bless  you,  don't  you  know  that  it's  one  of 
the  prerogatives  of  a  star  to  insist  on  people  com 
ing  to  him  instead  of  the  other  way  about?  What's 
the  use  of  being  a  star  if  you  can't " 

"Tell  him  I  will  come  when  I  get  good  and  ready." 

"Quite  so,"  said  Mr.  Bacon  absently.  He  did  not 
retire,  but  stood  in  the  door,  evidently  weighing 
something  that  was  on  his  mind  and  considering  the 
best  means  of  relieving  himself  of  the  mental  bur 
den.  "Ahem!"  he  coughed.  "Miss  Thackeray  ad 
vises  me  that  you  have  expressed  a  generous  inter 
est  in  our  personal" — (He  stepped  inside  the  room 
and  closed  the  door) — "er — in  our  private  future, 
so  to  speak,  and  I  take  this  opportunity  to  thank 
you,  Mr.  Barnes.  If  it  isn't  asking  too  much  of  you, 
I'd  like  you  to  say  a  word  or  two  in  my  behalf  to 
the  old  man.  You  might  tell  him  that  you  believe  I 
have  a  splendid  future  before  me, — and  you  wouldn't 
be  lying,  let  me  assure  you, — and  that  there  is  no 
doubt  in  your  mind  that  a  Broadway  engagement  is 
quite  imminent.  A  word  from  you  to  one  of  the 
Broadway  managers,  by  the  way,  would " 

"You  want  me  to  intercede  for  you  in  the  matter 
of  two  engagements  instead  of  one,  is  that  it?" 

"I  am  already  engaged  to  Miss  Thackeray, — in  a 
way.  The  better  way  to  put  it  would  be  for  you 
to  intercede  in  the  matter  of  one  marriage  and  one 
engagement.  I  think  he  would  understand  the  situa 
tion  much  better  if  you  put  it  in  that  way." 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Mr.  Rushcroft  about  it?" 

"Only  in  a  roundabout  way.     I  told  him  I'd  beat 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  275 

his  head  off  if  he  ever  spoke  to  Miss  Thackeray 
again  as  he  did  last  night." 

"Well,  that's  a  fair  sort  of  start,"  said  Barnes, 
who  was  brushing  his  hair.  "What  did  he  say  to 
that?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  had  to  close  the  door  rather  has 
tily.  If  he  said  anything  at  all  it  was  after  the  chair 
hit  the  door.  Ahem!  That  was  last  night.  He 
is  as  nice  as  pie  this  afternoon,  so  I  have  an  idea 
that  he  busted  the  chair  and  doesn't  want  old  Jones 
to  find  out  about  it." 

"I  will  say  a  good  word  for  you,"  said  Barnes, 
grinning. 

He  found  Mr.  Rushcroft  in  a  greatly  perturbed 
state  of  mind. 

"I've  had  telegrams  from  the  three  people  I  men 
tioned  to  you,  Barnes,  and  the  damned  ingrates  re 
fuse  to  join  us  unless  they  get  their  railroad  fares 
to  Crowndale.  Moreover,  they  had  the  insolence 
to  send  the  telegrams  collect.  The  more  you  do  for 
the  confounded  bums,  the  more  they  ask.  I  once  had 
a  leading  woman  who " 

Barnes  was  in  no  humour  to  listen  to  the  long- 
winded  reminiscences  of  the  "star,"  so  he  cut  him 
short  at  once.  He  ascertained  that  the  "ingrates" 
-were-nrffew^Fofk,  on  fninT^Trppers ,'*;OTbf^Ta~t~they~ 
could  not  accomplish  the  trip  to  Crowndale  unless 
railroad  tickets  were  provided.  The  difficulty  was 
bridged  in  short  order  by  telegrams  requesting  the 
distant  players  to  apply  the  next  day  at  his  office 
in  New  York  where  tickets  to  Crowndale  would  be 


276  GREEN  FANCY 

given  them.  He  telegraphed  his  office  to  buy  the 
tickets  and  hold  them  for  Miss  Milkens,  Mr.  Hatcher 
and  Mr.  Fling. 

"That  completes  one  of  the  finest  companies,  Mr. 
Barnes,  that  ever  took  the  road,"  said  Mr.  Rush- 
croft  warmly,  forgetting  his  animosity.  "You  will 
never  be  associated  with  a  more  evenly  balanced 
company  of  players,  sir.  I  congratulate  you  upon 
your  wonderful  good  fortune  in  having  such  a  cast 
for  'The  Duke's  Revenge.*  If  you  can  maintain  a 
similar  standard  of  excellence  in  all  of  jour  future 
productions,  you  will  go  down  in  history  as  the 
most  astute  theatrical  manager  of  the  day." 

Barnes  winced,  but  was  game.  "When  do  you 
start  rehearsals,  Rushcroft?" 

"It  is  my  plan  to  go  to  Crowndale  to-morrow  or 
the  next  day,  where  I  shall  meet  my  company.  Re 
hearsals  will  undoubtedly  start  at  once.  That  would 
give  us — let  me  see — Friday,  Saturday,  Sunday, 
Monday — four  days.  We  open  on  Tuesday  night. 
Oh,  by  the  way,  I  have  engaged  a  young  woman  of 
most  unusual  talent  to  take  the  minor  part  of  Hor- 
tense.  You  may  have  noticed  her  in  the  dining-room. 
Miss  Rosamond — er — where  did  I  put  that  card? — 
ah,  yes,  Miss  Floribel  Blivens.  The  poor  idiot  in 
sists  on  Blivens,  desiring  to  perpetuate  the  family 
monicker.  I  have  gotten  rid  of  her  spectacles,  how 
ever,  and  the  name  that  the  prehistoric  Blivenses 
gave  her  at  the  christening." 

"You — you  don't  mean  Miss  Tilly?" 

"I  do.      She  is   to  give  notice  to  Jones  to-day. 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  277 

There  are  more  ways  than  one  of  getting  even  with 
a  scurvy  caitiff.  In  this  case,  I  take  old  Jones's  best 
waitress  away  from  him,  and,  praise  God,  he'll 
never  find  another  that  will  stick  to  him  for  eighteen 
years  as  she  has  done." 

O'Dowd  returned  late  in  the  afternoon.  He  was 
in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  Green  Fancy ;  there  was 
no  mistaking  his  uneasiness.  He  drew  Barnes  aside. 

"For  the  love  of  Heaven,  Barnes,  get  her  away 
from  here  as  soon  as  possible,  and  do  it  as  secretly 
as  you  can,"  he  said.  "I  may  as  well  tell  you  that 
she  is  in  more  danger  from  the  government  secret 
sendee  than  from  any  one  up  yonder.  Understand, 
I'm  not  pleading  guilty  to  anything,  but  I  shall  be 
far,  far  away  from  here  meself  before  another  sun 
rise.  That  ought  to  mean  something  to  you." 

"But  she  has  done  no  wrong.  She  has  not  laid 
herself  liable  to " 

"That  isn't  the  point.  She  has  been  up  there  with 
us,  and  you  don't  want  to  put  her  in  the  position  of 
having  to  answer  a  lot  of  nasty  questions  they'll  be 
after  asking  her  if  they  get  their  hands  on  her.  She 
might  be  weeks  or  months  clearing  herself,  innocent 
though  she  be.  Mind  you,  she  is  as  square  as  any 
thing;  she  is  in  no  way  mixed  up  with  our  affairs 
up  there.  But  I'm  giving  you  the  tip.  Sneak  her 
out  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  don't  leave  any  trail." 

"She  may  prefer  to  face  the  music,  O'Dowd.  If  I 
know  her  at  all,  she  will  refuse  to  run  away." 

"Then  ye'll  have  to  kidnap  her,"  said  the  Irishman 
earnestly.  "There  will  be  men  swarming  here  from 


278  GREEN  FANCY 

both  sides  of  the  border  by  to-morrow  night  or  next 
day.  I've  had  direct  information.  The  matter  is 
in  the  hands  of  the  people  at  Washington  and  they 
are  in  communication  with  Ottawa  this  afternoon. 
Never  mind  how  I  found  it  out.  It's  the  gospel 
truth,  and — it's  going  to  be  bad  for  all  of  us  if  we're 
here  when  they  come." 

"Who  is  she,  O'Dowd?  Man  to  man,  tell  me  the 
truth.  I  want  to  know  just  where  I  stand." 

O'Dowd  hesitated,  looked  around  the  tap-room, 
and  then  leaned  across  the  table. 

"She  is  the  daughter  of  Andreas  Mara-Dafanda, 
former  minister  of  war  in  the  cabinet  of  Prince  Bo- 
laroz  the  Sixth.  Her  mother  was  first  cousin  to 
the  Prince.  Both  father  and  mother  are  dead.  And 
for  that  matter,  so  is  Bolaroz  the  Sixth.  He  was 
killed  early  in  this  war.  His  brother,  a  prisoner  in 
Austria,  as  you  may  already  know,  is  the  next  in  line 
for  the  throne, — if  the  poor  devil  lives  to  get  it  back 
from  the  Huns.  Miss  Cameron  is  in  reality  the 
Countess  Therese  Mara-Dafanda — familiarly  and 
lovingly  known  in  her  own  land  as  the  Countess  Ted. 
She  was  visiting  in  this  country  when  the  war  broke 
out.  If  it  is  of  any  use  to  you,  I'll  add  that  she 
would  be  rich  if  Aladdin  could  only  come  to  life  and 
restore  the  splendours  of  the  demolished  castle,  re 
fill  the  chests  of  gold  that  have  been  emptied  by  the 
conquerors,  and  restock  the  farms  that  have  been 
pillaged  and  devastated.  In  the  absence  of  Aladdin, 
however,  she  is  almost  as  poor  as  the  ancient  church- 
mouse.  But  she  has  a  fortune  of  her  own.  Two  of 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  279 

the  most  glorious  rubies  in  the  world  represent  her 
lips ;  her  eyes  are  sapphires  that  put  to  shame  the 
rocks  of  all  the  Sultans;  when  she  smiles,  you  may 
look  upon  pearls  that  would  make  the  Queen  of 
Sheba's  trinkets  look  like  chinaware;  her  skin  is  of 
the  rarest  and  richest  velvet ;  her  hair  is  all  silk  and 
a  yard  wide ;  and,  best  of  all,  she  has  a  heart  of  pure 
gold.  So  there  you  are,  me  man.  Half  the  royal 
progeny  of  Europe  have  been  suitors  for  her  hand, 
and  the  other  half  would  be  if  they  didn't  happen 
to  be  of  the  same  sex." 

"Is  she  likely  to — er — marry  any  one  of  them, 
O'Dowd?" 

"Do  you  mean,  is  she  betrothed  to  one  of  the 
royal  nuts?  If  I  were  her  worst  enemy  I  couldn't 
wish  her  anything  as  bad  as  that.  The  world  is 
full  of  regular  men, — like  meself,  for  example, — 
and  'twould  be  a  pity  to  see  her  wasted  upon  any 
thing  so  cheap  as  a  king." 

"Then,  she  isn't?" 

"Isn't  what?" 

"Betrothed." 

"Oh!"  He  squinted  his  eyes  drolly.  "Bedad,  if 
she  is,  she's  kept  it  a  secret  from  me.  Have  you  as 
pirations,  me  friend?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Barnes  sharply.  "By  the 
way,  you  have  mentioned  Prince  Bolaroz  the  Sixth, 
but  you  haven't  given  a  name  to  the  country  he 
ruled." 

O'Dowd  stared.  "The  Saints  preserve  us !  Is  the 
man  a  numbskull?  Are  you  saying  that  you  don't 


280  GREEN  FANCY 

know  who  and  what My  God,  such  ignorance 

bewilders  me!" 

"Painful  as  it  may  be  to  you,  O'Dowd,  I  don't 
seem  able  to  place  Bolaroz  in  his  proper  realm." 

"Whist,  then!"  He  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth 
and  whispered  a  name. 

An  incredulous  expression  came  into  Barnes's 
eyes.  "Are  you  jesting  with  me,  O'Dowd?" 

"I  am  not." 

"But  I  thought  it  was  nothing  more  than  a  make- 
believe,  imaginary  land,  cooked  up  by  some  hair- 
brained  novelist  for  the  purpose  of — • — " 

"Well,  ye  know  better  now,"  said  O'Dowd  crisply. 
"Good-bye.  I  must  be  on  my  way.  Deliver  my  best 
wishes  to  her,  Barnes,  and  say  that  if  she  ever  needs 
a  friend  Billy  O'Dowd  is  the  boy  to  respond  to  any 
call  she  sends  out.  God  willing,  I  may  see  her  again 
some  day, — and  I'll  say  the  same  to  you,  old  man." 
He  arose  and  held  out  his  hand.  "I'm  trusting  to 
you  to  get  her  away  from  these  parts  before  the  rat 
catchers  come.  Don't  let  'em  bother  her.  Good-bye 
and  good  luck  forever." 

"You  are  a  brick,  O'Dowd.  I  want  to  see  you 
again.  You  will  always  find  me ** 

"Thanks.  Don't  issue  any  rash  invitations.  I 
might  take  you  up."  He  strode  to  the  door,  fol 
lowed  by  Barnes. 

"Is  there  anything  to  be  feared  from  this  Prince 
Ugo  or  the  crowd  up  there?" 

"There  would  be  if  they  knew  where  they  could 
lay  their  hands  on  her  inside  of  the  next  ten  hours. 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  281 

She  could  a  tale  unfold,  and  they  wouldn't  like  that. 
Keep  her  under  cover  here  till — well,  till  that  danger 
is  past  and  then  keep  her  out  of  the  danger  that  is 
to  come." 

Barnes  started  upstairs  as  soon  as  O'Dowd  was 
off,  urged  by  an  eagerness  that  put  wings  on  his 
feet  and  a  thrill  of  excitement  in  his  blood.  Half 
way  up  he  stopped  short.  A  new  condition  con 
fronted  him.  What  was  the  proper  way  to  approach 
a  person  of  royal  blood?  Certainly  it  wasn't  right 
to  go  galumping  upstairs  and  bang  on  her  door,  and 
saunter  in  as  if  she  were  just  like  any  one  else.  He 
would  have  to  think. 

When  he  resumed  his  upward  progress  it  was  with 
a  chastened  and  deferential  mien.  Pausing  at  her 
door,  he  was  at  once  aware  of  voices  inside  the  room. 
He  stood  there  for  some  time  before  he  realised  that 
Miss  Thackeray  was  repeating,  with  theatric  fer 
vour,  though  haltingly,  as  much  of  her  "part"  as 
she  could  remember,  evidently  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  cousin  of  princes,  for  there  were  frequent  in 
terruptions  which  had  all  the  symptoms  of  applause. 

He  rapped  on  the  door,  but  so  timorously  that 
nothing  came  of  it.  His  second  effort  was  produc 
tive.  He  heard  Miss  Thackeray  say  "good  gra 
cious,"  and,  after  a  moment,  Miss  Cameron's  sub 
dued:  "What  is  it?" 

"May  I  come  in?"  he  inquired,  rather  ashamed 
of  his  vigour.  "It's  only  Barnes." 

"Come  in,"  was  her  lively  response.  "It  was  aw 
fully  good  of  you,  Miss  Thackeray,  to  let  me  hear 


282  GREEN  FANCY 

your  lines.  I  think  you  will  be  a  great  success  in 
the  part." 

"Thanks,"  said  Miss  Thackeray  drily.  "I'll  come 
in  again  and  let  you  hear  me  in  the  third  act."  She 
went  out,  mumbling  her  lines  as  she  passed  Barnes 
without  seeing  him. 

"Forgive  me  for  not  arising,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said 
Royalty,  a  wry  little  smile  on  her  lips.  "I  fear  I 
twisted  it  more  severely  than  I  thought  at  first.  It 
is  really  quite  painful." 

"Your  ankle?"  he  cried  in  surprise.  "When  and 
how  did  it  happen?  I'm  sorry,  awfully  sorry." 

"It  happened  last  night,  just  as  we  were  crossing 
the  ditch  in  front " 

"Last  night?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Don't 
you  know  that  it's  wrong  to  walk  with  a  sprained 
ankle?  Don't " 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  she  pleaded.  "You 
could  not  have  done  anything." 

"Couldn't  I,  though?  I  certainly  could  have  car 
ried  you  the  rest  of  the  way, — and  upstairs."  He 
was  conscious  of  a  strange  exasperation.  He  felt 
as  though  he  had  been  deliberately  cheated  out  of 
something. 

"You  poor  man !    I  am  quite  heavy." 

"Pooh!  A  hundred  and  twenty-five  at  the  out 
side.  Do  you  think  I'm  a  weakling?" 

"Please,  please !"  she  cried.  "You  look  so — so 
furious.  I  know  you  are  very,  very  strong, — but 
so  am  I.  Why  should  I  expect  you  to  carry  me  all 
that  distance  when " 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  283 

"But,  good  Lord,"  he  blurted  out,  "I  would  have 
loved  to  do  it.  I  can't  imagine  anything  more — I 
— I "  He  broke  off  in  confusion. 

She  smiled  divinely.  "Alas,  it  is  too  late  now. 

But "  she  went  on  gaily,  "you  may  yet  have 

the  pleasure  of  carrying  me  downstairs,  Mr.  Barnes. 
Will  that  appease  your  wrath?" 

He  flushed.    "I'm  sorry  I " 

"See,"  she  said,  "it  is  nicely  bandaged, — and  if 
you  could  see  through  the  bandages  you  would  find 
it  dreadfully  swollen.  That  nice  Miss  Thackeray 
doctored  me.  What  a  quaint  person  she  is." 

His  brow  clouded  once  more.  "I  hope  you  will 
feel  able  to  leave  this  place  to-morrow,  Countess. 
We  must  get  away  almost  immediately." 

"Ah,  you  have  been  listening  to  O'Dowd,  I  see." 

"Yes.     He  tells  me  it  will  be  dangerous  to " 

"I  was  thinking  of  something  else  that  he  must 
have  told  you.  You  forgot  to  address  me  as  Miss 
Cameron." 

"I  might  have  gone  even  farther  and  called  you 
the  Countess  Ted,"  he  said. 

She  sighed.  "It  was  rather  nice  being  Miss  Cam 
eron  to  you,  Mr.  Barnes.  You  will  not  let  it  make 
any  difference,  will  you?  I  mean  to  say,  you  will 
be  just  the  same  as  if  I  were  still  Miss  Cameron 
and  not — some  one  else?" 

"I  will  be  just  the  same,"  he  said,  leaning  a  little 
closer.  "I  am  not  so  easily  frightened  as  all  that, 
you  know." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then 


284        .  GREEN  FANCY 

turned  her  own  swiftly  away.  Entranced,  he  watched 
the  delicate  colour  steal  into  her  cheek. 

"You  are  just  like  other  women,"  he  said  thickly, 
"and  I  am  like  other  men.  We  can't  help  being 
what  we  are,  Countess.  Flesh  and  blood  mortals, 
that's  all.  If  a  cat  may  look  at  a  king,  why  may 
not  I  look  at  a  countess?" 

She  met  his  gaze,  but  not  steadily.  Her  deep 
blue  eyes  were  filled  with  a  vague  wonder ;  she  seemed 
to  be  searching  for  something  in  his  to  explain  the 
sudden  embarrassment  that  had  come  over  her. 

"Ah,  I  do  not  understand  you  American  men,"  she 
murmured,  shaking  her  head.  "A  king  would  have 
found  as  much  pleasure  in  looking  at  Miss  Cameron 
as  at  a  countess.  Why  shouldn't  you?"  A  radiant 
smile  lighted  her  face.  "The  king  would  not  think 
of  reproving  the  cat.  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should 
•not  look  at  a  poor  little  countess  with  impunity." 

"Do  you  think  it  would  be  possible  for  you  to 
understand  me  any  better  as  Miss  Cameron?"  he 
asked  bluntly. 

"I  think  perhaps  it  would,"  she  said,  the  smile 
fading. 

"Then,  I  shall  continue  to  look  upon  you  as  Miss 
Cameron,  Countess.  It  will  make  it  easier  for  both 
of  us." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  a  little  sadly,  "I  am  sure  Miss 
Cameron  would  not  be  half  so  dense  as  the  Countess. 
She  would  understand  perfectly.  She  has  grown 
to  be  a  very  discerning  person,  Mr.  Barnes,  not- 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  285 

withstanding  her  extreme  youth.  Miss  Cameron  is 
only  four  days  old,  you  see." 

He  bowed  very  low  and  said:  "My  proudest 
boast  is  that  I  have  known  her  since  the  day  she  was 
born.  If  I  had  the  tongue  and  the  courage  of 
O'Dowd  I  might  add  a  great  deal  to  that  state 
ment." 

"A  great  deal  that  you  would  not  say  to  a  coun 
tess?"  she  asked,  playing  with  fire. 

"A  great  deal  that  a  child  four  days  old  could 
hardly  be  expected  to  grasp,  Miss  Cameron,"  he  re 
plied,  pointedly.  "Having  lived  to  a  great  age 
myself,  and  acquired  wisdom,  I  appreciate  the  fu 
tility  of  uttering  profound  truths  to  an  infant  in 
arms." 

She  beamed.  "O'Dowd  could  not  have  done  any 
better  than  that,"  she  cried.  Then  quickly,  even 
nervously,  as  he  was  about  to  speak  again:  "Now, 
tell  me  all  that  Mr.  O'Dowd  had  to  say." 

He  seated  himself  and  repeated  the  Irishman's 
warning.  Her  eyes  clouded  as  he  went  on;  utter 
dejection  came  into  them. 

"He  is  right.  It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  clear 
myself.  My  own  people  would  be  against  me.  No 
one  would  believe  that  I  did  not  deliberately  make  off 
with  the  jewels.  They  would  say  that  I — oh,  it  is 
too  dreadful!" 

"Don't  worry  about  that,"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
have  me  to  testify  that " 

"How  little  you  know  of  intrigue,"  she  cried. 
"They  would  laugh  at  you  and  say  that  you  were 


286  GREEN  FANCY 

merely  another  fool  who  had  lost  his  head  over  a 
woman.  They  would  say  that  I  duped  you " 

"No!"  he  cried  vehemently.  "Your  people  know 
better  than  you  think.  You  are  disheartened,  dis 
couraged.  Things  will  look  brighter  to-morrow. 
Good  heavens,  think  how  much  worse  it  might  have 
been.  That — that  infernal  brute  was  going  to  force 

you  into  a  vile,  unholy  marriage.  He By  the 

way,"  he  broke  off  abruptly,  "I  have  been  thinking 
a  lot  about  what  you  told  me.  He  couldn't  have 
married  you  without  your  consent.  Such  a  mar 
riage  would  never  hold  in  a  court  of " 

"You  are  wrong,"  she  said  quietly.  "He  could 
have  married  me  without  my  consent,  and  it  would 
have  held, — not  in  one  of  your  law  courts,  I  dare 
say,  but  in  the  court  to  which  he  and  I  belong  by 
laws  that  were  made  centuries  before  America  was 
discovered.  A  prince  of  the  royal  house  may  wed 
whom  and  when  he  chooses,  provided  he  does  not 
look  too  far  beneath  his  station.  He  may  not  wed 
a  commoner.  The  state  would  not  recognise  such 
a  union.  My  consent  was  not  necessary." 

"But  you  are  in  my  country  now,  not  in  yours," 
he  argued.  "Our  laws  would  have  protected  you." 

"You  do  not  understand.  Marriages  such  as  he 
contemplated  are  made  every  year  in  Europe.  Do 
you  suppose  that  the  royal  marriages  you  read 
about  in  the  newspapers  are  made  with  the  consent 
of  the  poor  little  princes  and  princesses?  Your  laws 
are  one  thing,  Mr.  Barnes;  our  courts  are  another. 
Need  I  be  more  explicit?" 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  287 

"I  think  I  understand,"  he  said  slowly.  "Poor 
wretches !" 

"Prince  Ugo  is  of  royal  blood.  I  am  not  too  far 
beneath  him.  In  my  country  his  word  is  the  law. 
The  marriage  that  was  to  have  been  celebrated  to 
day  at  Green  Fancy  would  have  bound  me  to  him 
forever.  It  would  have  been  recognised  in  my  coun 
try  as  legal.  I  have  not  the  right  of  appeal.  I 
would  not  even  be  permitted  to  question  his  right 
to  make  me  his  wife  against  my  will.  He  is  a  prince. 
His  will  is  law." 

"Isn't  love  allowed  to  enter  into  a " 

"Love?"  she  scorned.  "What  has  love  to  do  with 
it?  There  isn't  a  queen  in  all  the  world  who  loves 
— or  loved,  I  would  better  say, — the  man  she  mar 
ried.  Some  of  them  may  have  grown  afterwards  to 
love  their  kings,  because  all  kings  are  not  alike.  You 
may  be  quite  sure,  however,  that  the  wives  of  kings 
and  princes  did  not  marry  their  ideals ;  they  did  not 
marry  the  men  they  loved.  So,  you  see,  it  wouldn't 
have  mattered  in  the  least  to  Prince  Ugo  whether  I 
loved  him  or  hated  him.  It  was  all  the  same  to  him. 
It  was  enough  that  he  loved  me  and  wanted  me.  And 
besides,  laying  sentiment  aside,  it  wouldn't  have  been 
a  bad  stroke  of  business  on  his  part.  He  has  a  fair 
chance  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  our  country.  By 
placing  me  beside  him  on  the  throne  he  would  be 
taking  a  long  step  toward  uniting  the  factions  that 
are  now  bitterly  opposing  each  other.  I  am  able  to 
discuss  all  this  very  calmly  with  you  now,  Mr. 
Barnes,  for  the  nightmare  is  ended.  I  am  here  with 


288  GREEN  FANCY 

you,  alive  and  well.  If  you  had  not  come  for  me 
last  night,  I  would  now  be  sleeping  the  long  sleep  at 
Green  Fancy." 

"You — you  would  have  taken  your  own  life?"  he 
said,  in  a  shocked  voice. 

"I  would  have  spared  myself  the  horror  of  letting 
him  destroy  it  in  a  slower,  more  painful  fashion," 
she  said,  compressing  her  lips. 

He  did  not  speak  at  once.  Looking  into  her  trou 
bled  eyes,  he  said,  after  a  soulful  moment:  "I  am 
glad  that  I  came  in  time.  You  were  made  to  love 
and  be  loved.  The  man  you  love, — if  there  ever  be 
one  so  fortunate, — will  be  my  debtor  to  the  end  of 
his  days.  I  glorify  myself  for  having  been  instru 
mental  in  saving  you  for  him." 

"If  there  ever  be  one  so  fortunate,"  she  mused. 
Suddenly  her  mood  changed.  A  new  kind  of  despair 
came  into  her  lovely  eyes,  a  plaintive  note  into  her 
voice.  (I  may  be  pardoned  for  declaring  that  she 
became,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  a  real  flesh  and 
blood  woman.)  "I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  unless 
I  can  get  something  to  wear,  Mr.  Barnes.  I  haven't 
a  thing,  you  see.  This  suit  is — well,  you  can  see 
what  it  is.  I " 

"I've  never  seen  a  more  attractive  suit,"  he  pro 
nounced.  "I  said  as  much  to  myself  the  first  time 
I  saw  it,  the  other  evening  at  the  cross-roads.  It 
fits " 

"But  I  cannot  live  in  it,  you  know.  My  boxes  are 
up  at  Green  Fancy, — two  small  ones  for  steamer  use. 
Everything  I  have  in  the  world  is  in  them.  Pray 


MARRIAGE  IS  FLOUTED  289 

do  not  look  so  forlorn.  You  really  couldn't  have 
carried  them,  Mr.  Barnes,  and  I  shudder  when  I 
think  of  what  would  have  happened  to  you  if  I  had 
tumbled  them  out  of  the  window  upon  your  head. 
You  would  have  been  squashed,  and  it  isn't  unlikely 
that  you  would  have  aroused  every  one  in  the  house 
with  your  groans  and  curses." 

"I  dropped  a  trunk  on  my  toes  one  time,"  he 
said,  grinning  with  a  delight  that  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  reminiscence.  She  was  quaintly  humorous 
once  more,  and  he  was  happy.  "I  think  one  swears 
more  prodigiously  when  a  trunk  falls  on  his  toes 
than  he  does  when  it  drops  on  his  head.  There  is 
something  wonderfully  quieting  and  soothing  about 
a  trunk  lighting  on  one's  head  from  a  great  height. 
Don't  worry  about  your  boxes.  I  have  a  feeling  it 
will  be  perfectly  safe  to  call  for  them  with  a  wagon 
to-morrow." 

"I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  you,"  she 
said. 

That  evening  at  supper,  Barnes  and  Mr.  Rush- 
croft,  to  say  nothing  of  three  or  four  "transients," 
had  great  cause  for  complaint  about  the  service. 
Miss  Tilly  was  wholly  pre-occupied.  She  was  mem 
orising  her  "part."  Instead  of  asking  Mr.  Rush- 
croft  whether  he  would  have 'bean  soup  or  noodles, 
she  wanted  to  know  whether  she  should  speak  the 
line  this  way  or  that.  She  had  a  faraway,  strained 
look  in  her  eyes,  and  she  mumbled  so  incessantly 
that  one  of  the  guests  got  up  and  went  out  to  see 
Mr.  Jones  about  it.  Beino-  assured  that  she  was 


290  GREEN  FANCY 

just  a  plain  (damn*  fool  and  not  crazy,  he  returned 
and  said  a  great  many  unpleasant  things  in  the 
presence  of  Miss  Tilly,  who  fortunately  did  not 
hear  them. 

"You've  spoiled  a  very  good  waitress,  Rushcroft," 
said  Barnes. 

"And  a  very  good  appetite  as  well,"  growled  the 
Star. 

Late  in  the  night,  Barnes,  sitting  at  his  window 
dreaming  dreams,  saw  two  big  touring  cars  whiz  past 
the  tavern.  The  next  morning  Peter  Ames,  the 
chauffeur,  called  him  up  on  the  telephone  to  inquire 
whether  he  had  heard  anything  more  about  the  job 
on  his  sister's  place.  He  was  anxious  to  know,  he 
said,  because  everybody  had  cleared  out  of  Green 
Fancy  during  the  night  and  he  had  received  instruc 
tions  to  lock  up  the  house  and  look  for  another  situ 
ation. 


CHAPTER  XVHI 

ME.     SPBOUSE     CONTINUES     TO     BE     PERPLEXING,     BUT 
PUTS   HIS   NOSE   TO    THE    GEOUND 

THE  morning  air  was  soft  with  the  first  real 
touch  of  spring.  A  quiet  haze  lay  over  the 
valley ;  the  lofty  hills  were  en j  oying  a  peace 
ful  smoke,  and  the  sky  was  as  blue  as  the  turquoise. 
Birds  shrilled  a  fresh,  gay  carol;  the  song  of  the 
anvil  had  a  new  thrill  of  joy  in  every  inspiring  note ; 
the  cawing  of  crows  travelled  melodiously  across  the 
fields,  roosters  split  their  throats  in  vociferous  ac 
claim  to  the  distant  sun,  and  hens  clucked  a  com 
placent  chorus.  The  rattle  of  kitchen  pans  was 
melody  to  the  ear  instead  of  torture;  the  squeaking 
of  pigs  in  the  sty  beyond  the  stable  yard  took  on 
the  dignity  of  music;  and  the  blue  smoke  that  rose 
from  chimneys  near  and  far  went  dancing  up  to  wed 
the  smiling  sky. 

Barnes  was  abroad  early.  Very  greatly  to  his  an 
noyance,  he  had  slept  long  and  soundly  throughout 
the  night.  He  was  annoyed  because  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  as  her  protector  he  would  be  most 
negligent  if  he  went  to  sleep  at  all,  with  all  those 
frightened  varlets  hovering  around  ready  to  go  to 
any  extreme  in  order  to  save  their  skins. 

291 


292  GREEN  FANCY 

Indeed,  he  left  his  door  slightly  ajar  and  laid  his 
revolver  on  a  chair  beside  the  bed,  in  which,  with 
the  aid  of  a  lantern,  he  promised  himself  to  keep  the 
vigil,  stretched  out  in  his  daytime  garb,  prepared 
for  instant  action,  the  while  he  enriched  his  mind  by 
reading  "The  Man  of  Property."  But  he  fell  to 
dreaming  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  and  few  were  the 
pages  he  turned. 

Suddenly  it  was  broad  daylight  and  the  wick  in 
the  lantern  smelled  horribly.  He  popped  from  the 
bed,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  then  dashed  out  in  the  hall, 
expecting  to  come  upon  sanguinary  evidence  of  a 
raid  during  the  night.  To  his  amazement,  there 
were  no  visible  signs  of  an  attack  upon  the  house. 
It  seemed  incredible  that  his  defection  had  not  been 
attended  by  results  too  horrible  to  contemplate.  By 
all  the  laws  of  fate,  she  should  now  be  either  dead  or 
at  the  very  least,  frightfully  mutilated.  Something 
like  that  invariably  happens  when  a  sentinel  sleeps 
at  his  post,  or  an  engineer  drowses  in  his  cab.  But 
nothing  of  the  sort  had  happened. 

Mr.  Bacon,  sweeping  the  front  stairs,  assured  him 
between  yawns  that  he  hadn't  heard  a  sound  in  the 
Tavern  after  half-past  ten, — at  which  hour  he  went 
to  bed  and  to  sleep. 

Barnes  was  at  breakfast  when  Peter  Ames  called 
up.  An  inspiration  seized  him  when  the  chauffeur 
mentioned  the  wholesale  exodus:  he  hired  Peter 
forthwith  and  ordered  him  to  report  immediately, — 
with  the  car.  He  was  going  up  to  Green  Fancy  for 
Miss  Cameron's  "boxes." 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERPLEXING       293 

Whether  it  was  the  fresh,  sweet  smell  of  the  earth 
that  caused  him  to  saunter  forth  from  the  Tavern, 
and  to  adventure  across  the  road  to  the  foot  of  the 
great  old  oak,  or  the  ripening  of  spring  in  his  blood, 
is  of  no  immediate  consequence  here.  He  had  no 
reason  for  going  over  there  to  lean  against  the  tree 
and  light  his  after-breakfast  pipe, — unless,  of  course, 
it  be  argued  that  the  position  afforded  a  fair  and 
excellent  view  of  the  window  in  Miss  Cameron's 
room.  The  shutters  were  open  and  the  low  sash 
was  raised. 

Presently  she  appeared  at  the  window,  and  smiled 
down  upon  him.  The  spell  was  at  its  height;  the 
charm  that  had  clothed  the  morning  with  enchant 
ment  was  now  complete. 

He  waved  his  hand.  "The  top  o'  the  morning,"  he 
cried. 

"I  detect  coffee,"  she  returned,  "and,  oh,  how 
good  it  smells.  Have  you  had  yours?'* 

"Ages  ago,"  he  replied,  ecstatically. 

She  placed  her  elbows  on  the  sill  and  her  chin  in 
the  palms  of  her  hands.  The  loose  sleeves  of  Miss 
Thackeray's  bizarre  dressing  gown  fell  away,  reveal 
ing  two  round,  smooth,  white  arms.  The  sun  shot 
its  mellow  light  into  the  ripples  of  her  tousled  hair, 
and  it  shone  like  burnished  gold.  Her  white  teeth 
gleamed  against  the  red  of  her  smiling  lips.  He  was 
fascinated. 

The  automobile  driven  by  Peter  Ames  too  soon 
came  roaring  and  rattling  up  the  pike.  She  with 
drew  her  head,  after  twice  being  warned  by  Barnes 


294  GREEN  FANCY 

not  to  reveal  herself  to  the  view  of  skulkers  who 
might  infest  the  wood  beyond, — and  each  time  his 
reward  was  a  delightfully  stubborn  shake  of  the  head 
and  the  ruthless  assertion  that  on  such  a  heavenly 
morning  as  this  she  didn't  mind  in  the  least  if  all 
the  spies  in  the  world  were  gazing  at  her. 

Two  minutes  after  Peter  drove  up  to  the  Tavern 
he  was  on  the  way  back  to  Green  Fancy  again,  and 
seated  beside  him  was  Thomas  Kingsbury  Barnes, 
his  new  master. 

"Needn't  be  afraid  of  trespassin',"  said  Peter 
when  Barnes  advised  him  to  go  slow  as  they  turned 
off  the  road  into  the  forest.  "Nobody's  going  to  ob 
ject.  You  c'n  yell,  and  shoot,  and  raise  all  the 
thunder  you  want,  an'  there  won't  be  nobody  runnin' 
out  to  tell  you  to  shut  up.  Might  as  well  try  to  dis 
turb  a  graveyard." 

There  was  not  a  sign  of  human  life  about  the 
place.  Peter,  without  compunction,  admitted  his  em 
ployer  through  the  back  door  of  the  house,  and  ac 
companied  him  upstairs  to  the  room  recently  occu 
pied  by  Miss  Cameron. 

"Course,"  he  said,  but  not  uneasily,  "I'm  not  sup 
posed  to  let  anybody  remove  anything  from  the 
house  as  long  as  I'm  employed  as  caretaker." 

"But  you  are  no  longer  employed  as  caretaker. 
You  were  discharged  and  you  are  now  working  for 
me,  Peter." 

"That's  so,"  said  Peter,  scratching  his  head. 
"Makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  I  never 
thought  of  that.  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  guess  Miss 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERTLEXING       295 

Cameron  needs  clothes  as  much  as  anybody.  The 
rest  of  'em  took  all  their  duds  away  with  'em,  you 
c'n  bet.  Would  you  know  Miss  Cameron's  clothes 
if  you  was  to  see  'em?" 

"Perfectly,"  said  Barnes. 

'That's  good,"  said  Peter,  relieved.  "Clothes 
seem  to  look  purty  much  alike  to  me,  specially 
women's." 

They  found  the  two  small  leather  trunks,  thickly 
belabelled,  in  the  room  upstairs.  Both  were  locked. 

"I  don't  see  how  you're  going  to  identify  'em  with 
out  seein'  'em,"  said  Peter  dubiously. 

Barnes  looked  at  him  sternly.  "Peter,  be  good 
enough  to  remember  that  you  are  working  for  a  man 
of  the  most  highly  developed  powers  of  divination. 
Do  you  get  that?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Peter  honestly;  "I  don't." 

"Well,  if  I  were  to  say  to  you  that  I  possess  the 
singular  ability  to  see  a  thing  without  actually  see 
ing  it,  what  would  you  say?" 

"I  wouldn't  say  anything,  because  I  don't  think 
it  helps  a  man  any  to  call  his  boss  a  liar." 

"You  take  this  one,"  said  Barnes,  without  fur 
ther  parley,  "and  I  will  manage  the  other."  He 
was  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  from  the  house.  There 
was  no  telling  when  the  government  agents  would  de 
scend  upon  the  place.  He  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
O'Dowd's  failure  to  remove  the  trunks  which  would 
so  surely  draw  the  attention  of  the  authorities  to 
the  girl  he  seemed  so  eager  to  shield.  "And,  by  the 
way,"  he  added,  as  they  descended  the  stairs  with 


296  GREEN  FANCY 

the  trunks  on  their  backs,  "you  may  as  well  get  your 
own  things  together,  Peter.  We  start  on  a  long 
motor  trip  to-night.  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  to 
steal  the  automobile,  if  you  don't  mind.'* 

"It  belongs  to  me,  sir,"  said  Peter.  "Mr.  O'Dowd 
gave  it  to  me  yesterday,  with  his  compliments.  It 
seems  that  he  had  word  from  his  sister  to  reward 
me  for  long  and  faithful  service.  Special  cablegram 
from  London  or  England,  I  forget  which." 

"Did  Mr.  Curtis  leave  with  the  others  last  night?" 
inquired  Barnes,  setting  the  trunk  down  on  the  brick 
pavement  outside  the  door. 

"  'Pears  that  he  left  a  couple  of  days  ago,"  said 
Peter,  vastly  perplexed.  "By  gosh,  I  don't  see  how 
he  done  it,  'thout  me  knowin'  anything  about  it. 
Derned  queer,  that's  all  I  got  to  say,  man  as  sick 
as  he  is." 

Barnes  did  not  enlighten  him.  He  helped  Peter 
to  lift  the  trunks  into  the  car  and  then  ordered  him 
to  start  at  once  for  Hart's  Tavern.  % 

"You  can  return  later  on  for  your  things,"  he 
said. 

"I  got  'em  tied  up  in  a  bundle  in  the  garage,  Mr. 
Burns,"  he  said.  "Won't  take  a  second  to  get  'em 
out."  He  hurried  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
leaving  Barnes  alone  with  the  car. 

A  dry,  quiet  chuckle  fell  upon  Barnes's  ears.  He 
glanced  about  in  surprise  and  alarm.  No  one  was 
in  sight. 

"Look  up,  young  man,"  and  the  startled  young 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERPLEXING      297 

man  obeyed.  His  gaze  halted  at  a  window  on  the 
second  story,  almost  directly  over  his  head. 

Mr.  Sprouse  was  looking  down  upon  him,  his 
sharp  features  fixed  in  a  sardonic  grin. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  burst  from  Barnes's  lips. 
He  could  not  believe  his  eyes. 

"Surprised  to  see  me,  eh?  If  you're  not  in  a 
hurry,  I'd  certainly  appreciate  a  lift  as  far  as  the 
Tavern,  old  man.  I'll  be  down  in  a  jiffy." 

"Hold  on!  What  the  deuce  does  all  this  mean? 
How  do  you  happen  to  be  here,  and  where  are 
the  -  " 

"Sh!  Not  so  loud!  Don't  get  excited.  I  dare 
say  you  know  all  there  is  to  know  about  me  by  this 
time,  so  we  needn't  waste  time  over  trifles.  Stand 
aside!  I'm  going  to  drop."  A  moment  later  he 
swung  over  the  sill,  and  dropped  lightly  to  the 
ground  eight  feet  below.  Dusting  his  hands,  he  ad 
vanced  and  extended  one  of  them  to  the  bewildered 
Barnes.  "Oh,  you  won't  shake,  eh?  Well,  it  doesn't 
matter.  I  don't  blame  you." 

"See    here,     Sprouse    or    whatever    your    name 


"Cool  off  !  I'll  explain  in  ten  words.  I  didn't  get 
the  stuff.  I  came  back  this  morning  to  have  a  quiet, 
undisturbed  look  around.  My  only  reason  for  re 
vealing  myself  to  you  now,  Barnes,  is  to  ask  your 
assistance  in  -  " 

"Ask  my  assistance,  you  infernal  rogue!"  roared 
Barnes.  "Why,  I'll—  I'U  -  " 

"Better  hear  me  out,"  broke  in  Sprouse  calmly. 


298  GREEN  FANCY 

"I  could  drill  a  hole  through  you  so  quickly  you'd 
never  know  what  did  it,"  he  went  on.  His  hand  was 
in  his  coat  pocket,  and  a  quick  glance  revealed  to 
Barnes  a  singularly  impressive  angle  in  the  cloth,  the 
point  of  which  seemed  to  be  directed  squarely  at 
his  chest.  "But  I'm  not  going  to  do  it.  I  just  want 
to  set  myself  straight  with  you.  In  a  word,  I  never 
got  anywhere  near  the  room  in  which  the  jewels 
were  hidden.  This  is  God's  truth,  Barnes.  I  didn't 
stick  a  knife  into  that  poor  devil  up  there  the  other 
night.  Here's  what  actually  happened.  I " 

"Wait  a  moment.  You  intended  to  steal  the  jew 
els,  didn't  you?  You  were  not  playing  fair  with  me 
then,  so  why  should  I  put  any  faith  in  you  now?" 

"Honest  confession  is  good  for  the  soul,"  said 
Sprouse  easily.  "I  wasn't  the  only  one  who  was  try 
ing  to  get  the  baubles,  my  friend.  It  was  a  game 
in  which  only  the  best  man  could  win." 

"I  know  the  truth  now  about  Roon  and  Paul," 
said  Barnes  significantly. 

"You  do?"  sneered  Sprouse.  "I'll  bet  you  a  thou 
sand  to  one  you  do  not.  If  the  girl  told  you  what 
she  believes  to  be  true,  she  didn't  have  it  straight 
at  all.  She  was  led  to  believe  that  they  were  a 
couple  of  crooks  and  that  they  fixed  me  in  that 
Tavern  down  there.  Isn't  that  what  she  told  you? 
Well,  that  story  was  cooked  up  for  her  special  bene 
fit.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  the  truth  about  them, 
and  you  can  tell  it  to  her.  Roon  was  the  Baron 
Hedlund But  all  this  can  wait.  Now " 

"Did  you  shoot  either  of  those  men?" 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERPLEXING       299 

"I  did  not.  Baron  Hedlund  was  shot,  I  firmly  be 
lieve,  by  Prince  Ugo.  I  might  as  well  go  on  with 
the  story  now  and  have  it  over  with.  Tell  that 
chauffeur  to  take  a  little  stroll.  He  doesn't  have 
to  hear  the  story,  you  know.  Hedlund  came  up  here 
a  week  or  so  ago  to  keep  a  look-out  for  his  wife.  The 
Baroness  is  supposed  to  be  deeply  enamoured  of 
Prince  Ugo.  He  found  letters  which  seemed  to  in 
dicate  that  she  was  planning  to  join  the  Prince  up 
here.  In  any  event,  he  came  to  watch.  Well,  she 
didn't  come.  She  had  been  headed  off,  but  he 
didn't  know  that.  When  he  heard  of  the  arrival  of 
a  lady  at  Green  Fancy  the  other  afternoon,  he  got 
busy.  He  went  right  up  there  with  blood  in  his  eye. 
I  admit  that  I  am  the  gentleman  who  telephoned 
the  warning  up  to  the  Prince.  They  tried  to  head 
the  Baron  and  his  man  off  at  the  cross-roads,  but 
he  beat  them  to  it.  If  there  was  to  be  a  fight,  they 
didn't  want  it  to  happen  anywhere  near  the  house. 
Part  of  them,  led  by  Ugo  himself,  took  a  short  cut 
up  through  the  woods  and  met  the  two  men  in  the 
road. 

"There  is  only  one  man  in  the  world  to-day  who 
is  a  better  shot  at  night  than  Prince  Ugo,  and  mod 
esty  keeps  me  from  mentioning  his  illustrious  name. 
That's  why  I  believe  Ugo  is  the  one  who  got  the 
Baron, — or  Roon,  as  you  know  him.  The  other  fel 
low  was  halted  at  the  cross-roads  when  he  made  a 
run  for  it.  A  couple  of  men  had  been  sent  there  for 
just  such  an  emergency.  Hedlund  was  a  curiously 
chivalrous  chap.  He  went  to  extreme  measures  to 


300  GREEN  FANCY 

protect  his  wife's  good  name  by  wiping  out  all  means 
of  identification.  His  wife's  good  name!  It  is  to 
laugh!  Now,  that  is  the  true  story  of  the  little  af 
fair,  and  if  you  are  as  much  of  a  gentleman  as  I  take 
you  to  be,  Barnes,  you  will  respect  Hedlund's  de 
sire  to  shield  the  woman  he  loved,  and  let  him  lie 
up  yonder  in  an  unmarked  grave.  That  is  what  he 
figured  on,  you  know,  in  case  things  went  against 
him,  and  I'll  stake  my  head  that  if  you  put  it  up 
to  the  Countess  Therese,  she  will  feel  as  I  do  about 
it.  She  will  beg  you  to  keep  the  secret.  Hedlund 
was  a  lifelong  friend  of  her  family.  He  was  beloved 
by  all  of  them.  He  married  an  actress  in  Vienna 
three  or  four  years  ago.  On  second  thoughts,  if  I 
were  you  I'd  spare  the  Countess.  I'd  let  her  go  on 
thinking  that  the  story  she  has  heard  is  true, — at 
least  for  the  time  being.  She's  a  nice  girl  and 
there's  no  sense  in  giving  her  any  unnecessary  pain. 
But  that's  up  to  you.  You  can  do  as  you  please 
about  it. 

"Now  to  go  back  to  my  own  troubles.  When  I 
got  out  into  the  hall  night  before  last,  after  leaving 
her  room,  I  heard  voices  whispering  in  Prince  Ugo's 
room.  Naturally  I  thought  that  some  one  had 
lamped  us  on  the  outside,  and  that  I  was  likely  to 
be  in  a  devil  of  a  mess  if  I  wasn't  careful.  The  last 
place  for  me  to  go  was  back  into  her  room.  They 
would  cut  me  off  from  the  outside.  So  I  beat  it  up 
the  stairway  into  the  attic.  Nothing  happened,  so 
I  sneaked  down  to  have  a  peep  around.  The  door 
to  Ugo's  room  was  open,  but  there  was  no  light  on 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERPLEXING       301 

the  inside.  He  came  to  the  door  and  looked  up  and 
down  the  hall.  Then  some  one  else  came  out  and 
started  to  sneak  away.  I  leave  you  to  guess  the  sex. 

"Nicholas  butted  in  at  this  unfortunate  juncture. 
He  made  the  mistake  of  his  life.  I  could  see  him 
as  plain  as  day,  standing  in  the  hall  grinning  like  an 
ape.  Ugo  jumped  back  into  his  room.  In  less  than 
a  second  he  was  out  again.  He  landed  squarely  on 
Nicholas's  back  as  the  fellow  turned  to  escape.  I 
saw  the  steel  flash.  Poor  old  Nick  went  down  in  a 
heap,  letting  out  a  horrible  yell.  Ugo  dragged  him 
into  the  room  and  dashed  back  into  his  own.  A 
moment  later  he  came  out  again,  yelling  for  help.  I 
heard  him  shouting  that  the  house  had  been  robbed, 
— and  in  two  seconds  there  was  an  uproar  all  over 
the  place.  I  thought  I  was  done  for.  But  he  had 
them  all  rushing  downstairs,  yelling  that  the  thief 
had  gone  that  way.  There  was  only  one  thing  left 
for  me  to  do  and  that  was  to  get  out  on  the  roof  if 
possible,  and  wait  for  things  to  quiet  down.  I  got 
out  through  a  trap  door  and  stayed  there  for  an 
hour  or  so.  They  were  beating  the  forest  for  the 
thief,  and  I  give  you  my  word,  believe  it  or  not,  I 
actually  sent  up  a  prayer,  Barnes,  that  you  had 
got  off  safely  with  the  girl.  I  prayed  harder  than 
I  ever  dreamed  a  man  could  pray. 

"Well,  to  shorten  the  story,  I  finally  took  a  chance 
and  slid  down  to  the  eaves  where  I  managed  to  find 
the  limb  of  a  tree  big  enough  to  support  me, — just 
as  if  the  Lord  had  ordered  it  put  there  for  my  spe 
cial  benefit.  I  was  soon  on  the  ground,  and  that 


302  GREEN  FANCY 

meant  safety  for  me.  I  had  heard  Ugo  tell  the  oth 
ers  that  Nicholas  said  the  man  who  stabbed  him  was 
yours  truly.  Can  you  beat  it?  And  then  every 
mother's  son  of  them  declared  it  was  a  feat  that  no 
one  else  in  the  world  could  have  pulled  off  but  me, 
and  as  I  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  it  was  only  nat 
ural  that  all  of  them  should  believe  the  lie  that  Ugo 
told. 

"And  now  comes  the  maddening  part  of  the  whole 
business.  He  said  that  the  crown  jewels  were  gone! 
I  heard  him  telling  how  he  was  awakened  out  of  a 
sound  sleep  by  a  man  with  a  gun,  who  forced  him  to 
open  the  safe  and  hand  over  the  treasure.  Then  he 
said  he  was  put  to  sleep  again  by  a  crack  over  the 
head  with  a  slung-shot.  He  was  only  partially 
stunned, — Lord,  what  a  liar! — and  came  to  in  time 
to  hear  the  struggle  across  the  hall.  The  thief  was 
running  downstairs  when  he  staggered  to  the  door. 
It  seems  that  the  door  at ,  the  bottom  of  the  steps 
had  not  been  closed  that  night. 

"Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Barnes,  when  I  asked  you 
to  lend  your  assistance  awhile  ago,  it  was  only  to 
have  you  tell  me  when  it  was  that  Mr.  Loeb  left 
this  place,  which  way  he  went,  and  who  accompanied 
him.  If  we  are  to  find  the  crown  jewels,  my  friend, 
we  will  first  have  to  find  Prince  Ugo.  He  has  them." 

Barnes  had  not  taken  his  eyes  from  the  face  of 
this  amazing  rascal  during  the  whole  of  the  recital. 
He  had  been  deceived  in  him  before;  he  was  deter 
mined  not  to  be  fooled  again. 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERPLEXING       303 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  this  yarn,"  he  said 
flatly.  "You  have  the  jewels  and " 

"Don't  be  an  ass,"  snapped  Sprouse.  "If  I  had 
them  do  you  suppose  I'd  be  fiddling  around  here  to 
day?  Not  much.  I  saw  the  gang  making  their  get 
away  last  night,  and  I  saw  Peter  depart  this  morn 
ing.  I  concluded  to  have  a  look  about  the  place. 
Hope  springs  eternal,  you  know.  There  was  a  bare 
possibility  that  he  might  have  forgotten  them!"  He 
scowled  as  he  grinned,  and  never  had  Barnes  looked 
upon  a  countenance  so  evil. 

"Why  should  I  tell  you  anything  about  Prince 
Ugo  ?  It  would  only  be  helping  you  to  carry  out  the 
game " 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Barnes,  I'm  not  going  to  double- 
cross  you  again.  That's  all  over.  I  want  to  get 
that  scurvy  dog  who  knifed  poor  old  Nick.  Nick 
was  a  decent,  square  man.  He  wasn't  a  crook. 
He  was  a  patriot,  if  such  a  thing  exists  in  this  world 
to-day.  If  you  can  give  me  a  lead,  I'll  try  to  run 
Prince  Ugo  down.  And  if  I  do,  we'll  get  the  jewels." 

"We?     You  amuse  me,  Sprouse." 

"Well,  I  can't  do  any  more  than  give  my  promise, 
my  solemn  oath,  or  something  like  that.  I  can't  give 
a  bond,  you  know.  I  swear  to  you  that  if  I  lay 
hands  on  that  stuff,  I  will  deliver  it  to  you.  Might 
just  as  well  trust  me  as  Ugo.  You  won't  get  them 
from  him,  that's  sure;  and  you  may  get  them  from 
me." 

"Is  it  revenge  you're  after?" 

"My  God,"  almost  shouted  Sprouse  in  his  exasper- 


304  GREEN  FANCY 

ation,  "didn't  he  give  me  a  black  eye  among  my 
friends  up  here?  Didn't  he  put  me  in  wrong  with  all 
of  them?  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  stand  for  that? 
Think  I'm  going  to  let  him  get  away  with  it?  You 
don't  know  me,  my  friend.  I've  got  a  reputation  at 
stake.  No  one  has  ever  double-crossed  me  and  got 
away  with  it.  I  want  to  prove  to  the  world  that 
I  didn't  take  those  jewels.  I " 

"Just  what  do  you  mean  by  'the  world,'  Sprouse?" 

"My  world,"  he  replied  succinctly.  "I'm  not  a 
piker,  you  know,"  he  went  on,  cocking  one  eye  in 
a  somewhat  supercilious  manner.  "The  stakes  are 
always  high  in  my  game.  I  don't  play  for  pennies." 

"Get  in  the  car,"  said  Barnes  suddenly.  He  had 
decided  to  take  a  chance  with  the  resourceful,  inde 
fatigable  rascal.  There  was  nothing  to  be  lost  by 
setting  him  on  the  track  of  Prince  Ugo,  who,  if  the 
man's  story  was  true,  had  betrayed  his  best  friends. 
There  was  something  convincing  about  Sprouse's 
version  of  the  affair  at  Green  Fancy.  He  called  out 
to  Peter. 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  the  whole  game  is  up, 
Naismith,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice.  Peter  was 
wrathfully  cranking  the  car.  "The  government  is 
going  to  take  a  hand  in  this  business  up  here." 

"If  you  mean  that  as  a  hint  to  me,  it's  unneces 
sary.  I'll  be  on  my  way  inside  of  an  hour.  This  is 
no  place  for  me.  And  that  Tavern  is  no  place  for — 
er — for  her,  Barnes.  Just  mention  that  you  saw 
me  and  that  I'm  going  after  Mr.  Loeb.  If  I  get  the 
stuff,  I'll  do  the  square  thing  by  her.  Not  for 


MR.  SPROUSE  IS  PERPLEXING       305 

sentimental  reasons,  bless  you,  but  just  because  I 
like  to  do  things  that  make  people  wonder  what  the 
hell  I'll  do  next.  Tell  her  the  whole  story  if  you  feel 
like  it,  but  if  I  were  you  I'd  wait  till  she  is  safe 
among  her  friends,  where  she  won't  be  nervous.  Hit 
it  up  a  bit,  Peter,  old  boy.  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

Peter  eyed  him  in  an  unfriendly  manner.  "Where 
did  you  come  from,  Mr.  Perkins?  Mighty  queer 
you " 

Sprouse  spoke  softly  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
mouth.  "Nice  old  New  England  name,  isn't  it, 
Barnes  ?"  To  Peter :  "It's  a  long  story.  I'll  write 
it  to  you.  Speed  up." 

Barnes  told  all  that  he  knew  of  Prince  Ugo's 
flight.  Sprouse  looked  thoughtful  for  a  long  time. 

"So  O'Dowd  knows  that  I  really  was  after  the 
swag,  eh?  He  believes  I  got  it?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"The  only  one  who  thinks  I'm  absolutely  innocent 
is  Ugo,  of  course, — and  Mrs.  Van  Dyke.  That's 
good."  Sprouse  smacked  his  lips.  "Just  send  me 
on  to  Hornville  in  the  car,  and  don't  give  me  an 
other  thought  till  you  hear  from  me.  I've  got  a 
pretty  fair  idea  where  I  can  find  Mr.  Loeb.  It  will 
take  a  little  time, — a  couple  of  days,  perhaps, — but 
sooner  or  later  he'll  turn  up  in  close  proximity  to 
the  beautiful  baroness." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A    TRIP    BY    NIGHT,    A    SUPPER,   AND    A    LATE    ARRIVAL, 

SHORTLY  after  sundown  that  evening,  the 
Rushcroft  Company  evacuated  Hart's  Tav 
ern.  They  were  delayed  by  the  irritating  and, 
to  Mr.  Rushcroft,  unpardonable  behaviour  of  two 
officious  gentlemen,  lately  arrived,  who  insisted  po 
litely  but  firmly  on  prying  into  the  past,  present  and 
future  history  of  the  several  members  of  the  organi 
sation,  including  the  new  "backer"  or  "angel,"  as 
one  of  the  operatives  slyly  observed  to  the  other  on 
beholding  Miss  Thackeray. 

Barnes  easily  established  his  own  identity  and  po 
sition,  and  was  not  long  in  convincing  the  investiga 
tors  that  his  connection  with  the  stranded  company 
was  of  a  purely  philanthropic  nature, — yes,  even 
platonic,  he  asseverated  with  some  heat  when  the 
question  was  put  to  him. 

They  examined  him  closely  concerning  his  soli 
tary  visit  to  Green  Fancy,  and  he  described  to  the 
best  of  his  ability  all  but  one  of  the  inmates.  He 
neglected  to  mention  Miss  Cameron.  Realising  that 
he  would  be  storing  up  trouble  for  himself  if  he 
failed  to  mention  his  trip  to  the  house  that  morn 
ing, — they  were  sure  to  hear  of  it  in  time, — he  set 

306 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL  307 

his  mind  to  the  task  of  constructing  a  satisfactory 
explanation.  He  concluded  to  sacrifice  Peter  Ames, 
temporarily  at  least.  Taking  Peter  aside,  he  ex 
plained  the  situation  to  him,  impressing  upon  him 
the  importance  of  leaving  Miss  Cameron  and  her 
luggage  out  of  the  interview,  and  to  say  nothing 
about  the  return  of  "Mr.  Perkins." 

Fortified  by  Barnes's  promise  to  protect  him  if  he 
followed  these  instructions,  Peter  consented  to  tell 
all  that  he  knew  about  the  people  at  Green  Fancy. 
Whereupon  his  new  employer  informed  the  secret 
service  men  that  he  had  gone  up  to  Green  Fancy 
that  morning  in  response  to  an  appeal  from  Peter 
Ames,  who  had  applied  to  him  for  a  position  a  day 
or  two  before.  On  his  arrival  there  he  confirmed 
the  bewildered  chauffeur's  story  that  the  whole 
crowd  had  stolen  away  during  the  night.  He  guar 
anteed  to  produce  Peter  at  any  time  he  was  needed, 
and  was  perfectly  willing  to  discommode  himself  to 
the  extent  of  leaving  the  man  behind  if  they  insisted 
on  holding  him. 

The  officers,  after  putting  him  through  a  rather 
rigid  examination,  held  private  consultation  over 
Peter.  To  Barnes's  surprise  and  subsequent  dismay, 
they  announced  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  holding  the  man;  he  was  at  liberty  to  depart 
with  his  employer,  provided  he  would  report  when 
necessary. 

Barnes  was  some  time  in  fathoming  the  motive  be 
hind  this  seeming  indifference  on  the  part  of  the  se 
cret  service  men.  It  came  to  him  like  a  flash,  and  its 


308  GREEN  FANCY 

significance  stunned  him.  They  had  decided  that 
there  was  more  to  be  gained  by  letting  Peter  Ames 
think  he  was  above  suspicion  than  by  keeping  him 
on  the  anxious  seat.  Peter  unrestrained  was  of 
more  value  to  them  than  Peter  in  durance  vile.  And 
from  that  moment  forward  there  would  not  be  an 
hour  of  the  day  or  night  when  he  was  far  ahead  of 
the  shadower  who  followed  his  trail.  There  would 
be  a  sly,  invisible  pursuer  at  his  heels,  and  an  eye  ever 
ready  to  detect  the  first  false  move  that  he  made. 
They  were  counting  on  Peter  to  lead  them,  in  his  own 
good  time,  to  the  haunts  of  his  comrades.  He  could 
not  escape.  And  he  could  make  the  fatal  mistake  of 
considering  them  a  pack  of  fools ! 

Barnes,  perceiving  all  this,  was  in  a  state  of  per 
turbation.  He  had  devised  a  very  clever  plan  for 
getting  Miss  Cameron  away  from  the  Tavern  with 
out  attracting  undue  attention.  She  was  to  leave  in 
one  of  the  automobiles  that  he  had  engaged  to  con 
vey  the  players  to  Crowndale.  It  should  go  without 
saying  that  she  was  to  travel  with  him  in  Peter's 
ramshackle  car.  In  case  of  detention  or  inquiry,  she 
was  to  pose  as  a  stage-struck  young  woman  who  had 
obtained  a  place  with  the  company  at  the  last  mo 
ment  through  his  influence. 

Mr.  Rushcroft  was  not  in  the  secret.  Barnes 
merely  announced  that  he  wanted  to  give  a  charm 
ing  young  friend  of  the  family  a  chance  to  see  what 
she  could  do  on  the  stage,  and  that  he  had  taken 
the  liberty  of  sending  for  her.  The  star  was  mag 
nanimous.  He  slapped  Barnes  on  the  back  and  de- 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL  309 

clared  that  nothing  could  give  him  greater  joy  than 
to  transform  any  friend  of  his  into  an  actress,  and 
he  didn't  give  a  hang  whether  she  had  talent  or 
not. 

"We'll  write  in  a  part  for  her  to-night,"  he  said, 
"and  we'll  make  it  a  small  one  at  first,  so  that  she 
won't  have  any  difficulty  in  learning  it.  From  night 
to  night  we'll  build  it  up,  Barnes,  so  that  by  the 
end  of  our  first  month  your  protegee  practically  will 
be  a  co-star  with  me.  There's  nothing  mean  about 
me,  old  chap.  Any  friend  of  yours  can  have " 

Barnes  made  haste  to  explain  that  he  did  not  want 
any  one  to  know  that  this  friend  of  the  family  was 
going  on  the  stage,  and  that  he  would  be  greatly 
indebted  to  Rushcroft  if  he  would  keep  "mum"  about 
it  for  the  time  being. 

"Certainly.  Not  a  word.  I  understand,"  said 
Mr.  Rushcroft  amiably.  "I've  had  it  happen  be 
fore,"  he  went  on,  a  perfectly  meaningless  remark 
that  brought  a  flush  to  Barnes's  cheek. 

It  had  been  Barnes's  intention  to  spirit  his  charge 
away  from  Hart's  Tavern  under  cover  of  darkness, 
in  company  with  his  other  "responsibilities,"  but  the 
fresh  turn  of  affairs  now  presented  difficulties  that 
were  likely  to  upset  his  hastily  conceived  strategy. 
He  had  but  one  purpose  in  view,  and  that  was  to 
spare  her  an  unpleasant  encounter  with  the  govern 
ment  officials, — an  encounter  that  conceivably  might 
result  in  very  distressing  complications.  He  had 
revealed  his  plan  to  her  and  she  apparently  was  very 
much  taken  with  it, — indeed,  she  was  quite  enthusias- 


310  GREEN  FANCY 

tic  over  the  prospect  of  being  whisked  unceremoni 
ously  to  Crowndale,  and  thence  to  the  home  of  his 
sister  in  New  York  City,  where  she  could  at  once 
put  herself  in  communication  with  friends  and  sup 
porters. 

He  was  looking  forward  with  dubious  hopes  to  a 
possible  extension  of  his  guardianship,  involving  a 
voyage  across  the  Atlantic  and  the  triumphant  de 
livery  of  the  Countess,  so  to  speak,  into  the  eager 
arms  of  her  country's  ambassador  at  Paris.  He 
was  now  in  a  state  of  mind  that  inspired  him  with 
the  belief  that  it  would  be  a  joy  to  die  for  her.  If 
he  died  for  her,  she  would  always  remember  him  as 
a  brave,  devoted  champion ;  she  would  exalt  him ;  in 
her  tender,  grateful  heart  there  would  always  be  a 
corner  for  him,  even  to  the  end  of  her  days, — even 
to  the  end  of  her  days  on  the  throne  of  her  coun 
try's  ruler.  Far  better  that  he  should  die  for  her, — 
and  have  it  all  over  with, — than  that  he  should  live 

to  see  her  the  wife  of But  invariably  he  ceased 

dreaming  at  this  point  and  admitted  that  it  would 
be  infinitely  more  satisfying  to  live.  It  was  his  mat 
ter-of-fact  contention  that  while  there  is  life  there 
is  hope. 

When  the  hour  came  for  the  departure  from 
Hart's  Tavern  he  deliberately  engaged  the  two  se 
cret  service  men  in  copversation  in  the  tap-room. 
Miss  Cameron  left  the  house  by  the  rear  door  and 
was  safely  ensconced  in  Peter's  automobile  long  be 
fore  he  shook  hands  with  the  "rat-catchers"  and 
dashed  out  to  join  her.  Tommy  Gray's  car,  occu- 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL  311 

pied  by  the  four  players,  was  moving  away  from 
the  door  as  he  sprang  in  beside  her  and  slammed  the 
door.  The  interior  of  the  car  was  as  black  as  pitch. 

"Are  you  there?"  he  whispered. 

"Yes.  Isn't  it  jolly,  running  away  like  this?  It 
must  be  wonderfully  exciting  to  be  a  criminal,  always 
dodging  and " 

"Sh !    Even  a  limousine  may  have  ears  !" 

But  if  the  limousine  had  possessed  a  thousand 
ears  they  would  have  been  rendered  useless  in  the 
stormy  racket  made  by  Peter's  muffler  and  the  thun 
derous  roar  of  the  exhaust  as  the  car  got  under 
way. 

Sixty  miles  lay  between  them  and  Crowndale. 
Tommy  Gray  guaranteed  that  the  distance  could  be 
covered  in  three  hours,  even  over  the  vile  mountain 
roads.  Ten  o'clock  would  find  them  at  the  Grand 
Palace  Hotel,  none  the  worse  for  wear,  provided 
(he  always  put  it  parenthetically)  they  lived  to 
tell  the  tale!  The  luggage  had  gone  on  ahead  of 
them  earlier  in  the  day. 

Peter's  efforts  to  stay  behind  Tommy's  venerable 
but  surprisingly  energetic  Buick  were  the  cause  of 
many  a  gasp  and  shudder  from  the  couple  who  sat 
behind  him  in  the  bounding  car.  He  had  orders  to 
keep  back  of  Tommy  but  never  to  lose  sight  of  his 
tail  light. 

Peter  was  like  the  celebrated  Tarn  O'  Shanter. 
He  was  pursued  by  spectres.  The  instant  that  he 
discovered  that  he  was  lagging  a  trifle,  he  shot  the 
car  up  to  top  speed,  with  the  result  that  he  had  to 


312  GREEN  FANCY 

jam  on  the  brakes  violently  in  order  to  avoid  crash 
ing  into  Tommy's  tail  light,  and  at  such  times  Miss 
Cameron  and  Barnes  sustained  unpleasant  jars. 
Something  seemed  to  be  telling  Peter  that  the  law 
was  stretching  out  its  cruel  hand  to  clutch  him  from 
behind;  he  was  determined  to  keep  out  of  its  reach. 

There  was  small  opportunity  for  conversation. 
The  trip  was  not  at  all  as  Barnes  had  imagined  it 
would  be.  After  the  car  had  raced  through  Horn- 
ville  he  decided  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  keep 
Tommy's  tail  light  in  view,  and  so  directed  Peter. 
After  that  conversation  was  possible,  but  the  gain 
was  counterbalanced  by  a  distinct  sense  of  loss.  She 
relinquished  her  rather  frenzied  grasp  upon  his  arm, 
and  sank  back  into  the  corner  of  the  seat. 

"Oh,  dear,  what  a  relief!"  she  gasped. 

"What  arrant  stupidity,"  he  growled,  and  she 
never  knew  that  the  remark  bore  no  relation  what 
soever  to  Peter. 

He  confessed  his  fears  to  her,  and  was  immeasur 
ably  consoled  by  her  enthusiastic  scorn  for  the  con 
sequences  of  his  mistake. 

"Let  them  follow  poor  old  Peter,"  she  said.  "We 
will  outwit  them,  never  fear.  If  necessary,  Mr. 
Barnes,  we  can  travel  with  the  company  for  days 
and  days.  I  think  I  should  rather  enjoy  it.  If 
you  can  manage  to  get  word  to  my  friends  in  New 
York,  to  relieve  their  anxiety,  I  shall  be  more  than 
grateful.  I  am  sure  they  will  decide  that  you  are 
acting  for  the  best  in  every  particular.  It  would 
grieve  them, — yes,  it  would  distress  them  greatly, — 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL 

if  I  were  to  be  subjected  to  an  inquiry  at  the  hands 
of  the  authorities.  The  notoriety  would  be — har 
rowing,  to  say  the  least.  Moreover,  the  disclo 
sures  would  certainly  bring  disaster  upon  those  who 
are  working  so  loyally  to  right  a  grave  wrong. 
They  will  understand,  and  they  will  thank  you  not 
only  for  all  that  you  have  done  for  me  but  for  the 
cause  I  support." 

"The  first  time  I  ever  saw  you,  I  said  to  myself 
that  you  were  a  brave,  indomitable  little  soldier," 
he  said  warmly.  "I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  of 
it  now." 

"The  men  of  my  family  have  been  soldiers  for  ten 
generations,"  she  said  simply,  as  if  that  covered 
everything.  "They  haven't  all  been  heroes  but  none 
of  them  has  been  a  coward." 

"I  can  believe  that,"  he  said.     "Blood  will  tell." 

"If  God  gives  back  my  country  to  my  people,  Mr. 
Barnes,"  she  said,  after  a  long  silence,  "will  you  not 
one  day  make  your  way  out  there  to  us,  so  that  we 
may  present  some  fitting  expression  of  the  grati 
tude " 

"Don't  speak  of  gratitude,"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
don't  want  to  be  thanked.  Good  Lord,  do  you  sup 
pose  I " 

"There,  there !  Don't  be  angry,"  she  cried.  "But 
you  must  come  to  my  country.  You  must  see  it. 
You  will  love  it." 

"But  suppose  that  God  does  not  see  fit  to  restore 
it  to  you.  Suppose  that  he  leaves  it  in  the  hands 


314  GREEN  FANCY 

of  the  vandals.  What  then?  Will  you  go  back  to 
^-that?" 

She  was  still  for  a  long  time.  "I  shall  not  return 
to  my  country  until  it  is  free  again,  Mr.  Barnes," 
she  said,  and  there  was  a  break  in  her  voice. 

"You — you  will  remain  in  my  country?'*  he  asked, 
leaning  closer  to  her  ear. 

"The  world  is  large,'*  she  replied.  "I  shall  have 
to  live  somewhere.  It  may  be  here,  it  may  be  France, 
or  England  or  Switzerland." 

"Why  not  here  ?    You  could  go  far  and  do  worse." 

"Beggars  may  not  be  choosers.  The  homeless 
cannot  be  very  particular,  you  know.  If  the  Ger 
mans  remain  in  my  country,  I  shall  be  without  a 
home." 

His  voice  was  tense  and  vibrant  when  he  spoke 
again,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "I  know  what 
O'Dowd  would  say  if  he  were  in  my  place." 

"O'Dowd  has  known  me  a  great  many  years,"  she 
said.  "When  you  have  known  me  as  many  months 
as  he  has  years,  you  will  thank  your  lucky  star  that 
you  do  not  possess  the  affability  that  the  gods  have 
bestowed  upon  O'Dowd." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  he  said,  and  heard  the 
little  catch  in  her  breath.  He  found  her  hand  and 
clasped  it  firmly.  His  lips  were  close  to  her  ear. 
"I  have  known  you  long  enough  to " 

"Don't!"  she  cried  out  sharply.  "Don't  say  it 
now, — please.  I  could  listen  to  O'Dowd,  but — but 
you  are  different.  He  would  forget  by  to-morrow, 
and  I  would  forget  even  sooner  than  he.  But  it 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL  315 

would  not  be  so  easy  to  forget  if  you  were  to  say 
it, — it  would  not  be  easy  for  either  of  us." 

"You  are  not  offended?"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"Why  should  I  be  offended?  Are  you  not  my 
protector?" 

The  subtle  implication  in  those  words  brought  him 
to  his  senses.  Was  he  not  her  protector?  And  was 
he  not  abusing  the  confidence  she  placed  in  him? 

"I  shall  try  to  remember  that, — always,"  he  said 
abjectly. 

"Some  day  I  shall  tell  you  why  I  am  glad  you  did 
not  say  it  to  me  to-night,"  she  said,  a  trifle  unstead 
ily.  She  squeezed  his  hand.  "You  are  very  good 
to  me.  I  shall  not  forget  that  either.'* 

And  she  meant  that  some  day  she  would  confess 
to  him  that  she  was  so  tired,  and  lonely,  and  dis 
consolate  on  this  journey  to  Crowndale,  and  so  in 
need  of  the  strength  he  could  give,  that  she  would 
have  surrendered  herself  gladly  to  the  comfort  of 
his  arms,  to  the  passion  that  his  touch  aroused  in  her 
quickening  blood ! 

Soon  after  ten  o'clock  they  entered  the  town  of 
Crowndale  and  drew  up  before  the  unattractive 
portals  of  the  Grand  Palace  Hotel.  An  arc  lamp 
swinging  above  the  entrance  shed  a  pitiless  light 
upon  the  dreary,  God-forsaken  hostelry  with  the 
ironic  name. 

Mr.  Rushcroft  was  already  at  the  desk,  com 
plaining  bitterly  of  everything  seen  and  unseen.  As 
a  matter  of  habit  he  was  roaring  about  his  room 
and,  while  he  hadn't  put  so  much  as  his  nose  inside 


316  GREEN  FANCY 

of  it,  he  insisted  on  knowing  what  they  meant  by 
giving  it  to  him.  Mr.  Bacon  and  Mr.  Dillingford 
were  growling  because  there  was  no  elevator  to 
hoist  them  two  flights  up,  and  Miss  Thackeray 
was  wanting  to  know  why  she  couldn't  have  a  bit 
of  supper  served  in  her  room. 

"They're  all  alike,"  announced  Mr.  Rushcroft  de 
spairingly,  addressing  the  rafters.  He  meant  hotels 
in  general. 

"They're  all  alike,"  vouchsafed  the  clerk  in  an 
aside  to  the  "drummer"  who  leaned  against  the  coun 
ter,  meaning  stage-folk  in  general. 

"You're  both  right,"  said  the  travelling  salesman, 
who  knew. 

"Is  there  a  cafe  in  the  neighbourhood?"  inquired 
Barnes,  with  authority. 

"There's  a  rest'rant  in  the  next  block,"  replied 
the  clerk,  instantly  impressed.  Here  was  one  who 
obviously  was  not  "alike."  "A  two-minutes'  walk, 
Mr. "  (looking  at  the  register) — "Mr.  Barnes." 

"That's  good.  We  will  have  supper  in  Miss 
Thackeray's  room.  Let  me  have  your  pencil,  please. 
Send  over  and  have  them  fill  this  order  inside  of 
twenty  minutes."  He  handed  what  he  had  written 
to  the  blinking  clerk.  "For  eight  persons.  Tell  'em 
to  hurry  it  along." 

"Maybe  they're  closed  for  the  night,"  said  the 
clerk.  "And  besides " 

"My  God!  He  even  hesitates  to  get  food  for  us 
when "  began  Mr.  Rushcroft. 

"Besides  there's  only  one  waiter  on  at  night  and 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL  317 

he  couldn't  get  off,  I  guess.  And  besides  it's  against 
the  rules  of  this  house  to  serve  drinks  in  a 
lady's " 

"You  tell  that  waiter  to  close  up  when  he  comes 
over  here  with  what  I've  ordered,  and  tell  him  that 
I  will  pay  double  for  everything,  and  to-morrow 
morning  you  can  tell  the  proprietor  of  this  house 
that  we  broke  the  rules  to-night." 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Miss  Tilly  sat  down 
to  a  meal  served  by  a  member  of  her  late  profession. 
She  sat  on  the  edge  of  Miss  Thackeray's  bed  and 
held  a  chicken  sandwich  in  one  hand  and  a  full  glass 
of  beer  in  the  other.  Be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  her 
forebears,  she  did  not  take  even  so  much  as  a  sip 
from  the  glass,  but  seven  sandwiches,  two  slices  of 
cold  ham,  half  a  box  of  sardines,  a  plate  of  potato 
salad,  a  saucer  of  Boston  baked  beans,  two  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  a  piece  of  apple  pie  and  two  cups  of  cof 
fee  passed  her  freshly  carmined  lips.  She  was  in  her 
seventh  heaven.  She  was  no  longer  dreaming  of 
fame:  it  was  a  gay  reality.  Emulating  the  example 
of  Miss  Thackeray,  she  addressed  Mr.  Dillingford 
as  "dear,"  and  came  near  to  being  the  cause  of  his 
death  by  strangulation. 

Miss  Cameron  submitted  to  the  contagion.  She 
had  had  no  such  dreams  as  Miss  Tilly's,  but  she  was 
quite  as  thrilled  by  the  novelty  of  her  surroundings, 
the  informality  of  the  feast,  and  the  sprightliness 
of  these  undaunted  spirits.  She  sat  on  Miss  Thack 
eray's  trunk,  her  back  against  the  wall,  her  band 
aged  foot  resting  on  a  decrepit  suit-case.  Her  eyes 


318  GREEN  FANCY 

were  sparkling,  her  lips  ever  ready  to  part  in  the 
joy  of  laughter,  the  colour  leaping  into  her  cheeks 
in  response  to  the  amazing  quips  of  these  unconven 
tional  vagabonds. 

She  too  was  hungry.  Food  had  never  tasted  so 
good  to  her.  From  time  to  time  her  soft,  smiling 
eyes  sought  Barnes  with  a  look  of  mingled  wonder 
and  confusion.  She  always  laughed  when  she  caught 
the  expression  of  concern  in  his  eyes,  and  once  she 
slyly  winked  at  him.  He  was  entranced. 

He  crossed  over  and  sat  beside  her.  "They  are  a 
perfectly  irresponsible  lot,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"I  hope  you  don't  mind  their — er — levity." 

"I  love  it,"  she  whispered.  "They  are  an  inspira 
tion.  One  would  think  that  they  had  never  known 
such  a  thing  as  trouble.  I  am  taking  lessons,  Mr. 
Barnes." 

She  was  still  warmly  conscious  of  the  thrill  that 
had  come  into  her  blood  when  he  carried  her  up  the 
stairs  in  his  powerful  arms,  disdaining  the  offer  of 
assistance  from  the  suddenly  infatuated  Tommy 
Gray. 

"Rehearsal  at  eleren  sharp,"  announced  Mr. 
Rushcroft,  arising  from  the  window-sill  on  which  he 
was  seated.  '^Letter  perfect,  every  one  of  you. 
No  guessing.  By  the  way,  Miss — er — 'pon  my  soul, 
I  don't  believe  I  got  your  name?" 

"Jones,"  said  the  new  member,  shamelessly. 

"Ah,"  said  he,  smiling  broadly,  "a  word  oft  spoken 
in  jest — ahem! — how  does  it  go?  No  matter.  You 
know  what  I  mean.  I  have  not  had  time  to  write 


A  LATE  ARRIVAL  319 

in  the  part  for  you,  Miss  Jones,  but  I  shall  do  so 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  Now  that  I  see  how 
difficult  it  is  for  you  to  get  around,  I  have  hit  upon 
a  wonderful  idea.  I  shall  make  it  a  sitting  part. 
You  won't  have  to  do  anything  with  your  legs  at  all. 
Most  beginners  declare  that  they  don't  know  what 
to  do  with  their  hands,  but  I  maintain  that  they 
know  less  about  what  to  do  with  their  legs.  For 
tunately  you  are  incapacitated " 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  excuse  Miss 
Jones  from  rehearsal  in  the  morning,"  broke  in 
Barnes  hastily,  "She  is  hardly  fit  to " 

"Just  as  you  say,  old  chap.  Doesn't  matter  in 
the  least.  Good  night,  everybody.  Sleep  tight." 

"I  sha'n't  sleep  a  wink,"  said  Miss  Tilly. 

"Homesick  already?"  demanded  Mr.  Bacon,  fix 
ing  her  with  a  pitying  stare, 

"Worrying  over  my  part,"  she  explained. 

"Haven't  you  committed  it  yet?  Say  it  now.  'It 
is  half  past  seven,  my  lord.'  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  remember  that  it  comes  in  the  second  act  and  not 
in  the  first  or  third," 

"Good  night,"  said  Miss  Cameron,  giving  her 
hand  to  Barnes  at  the  door.  She  was  leaning  on 
Miss  Thackeray's  arm.  He  never  was  to  forget  the 
deep,  searching  look  she  sent  into  his  eyes.  She 
seemed  to  be  asking  a  thousand  questions. 

He  went  down  to  the  dingy  lobby.  A  single, 
half-hearted  electric  bulb  shed  its  feeble  light  on 
the  desk,  in  front  of  which  stood  a  man  register 
ing  under  the  sleepy  eye  of  the  night  clerk. 


320  GREEN  FANCY 

After  the  late  arrival  had  started  upstairs  in  the 
wake  of  the  clerk,  Barnes  stepped  up  to  inspect  the 
book.  The  midnight  express  from  the  north  did  not 
stop  at  Crowndale,  he  had  learned  upon  inquiry, 
and  it  was  the  only  train  touching  the  town  be 
tween  nightfall  and  dawn. 

The  register  bore  the  name  of  Thomas  Moore, 
Hornville.  There  was  not  the  slightest  doubt  in 
Barnes's  mind  that  this  was  the  man  who  had  been 
detailed  to  shadow  the  luckless  Peter.  Only  an  im 
perative  demand  by  government  authorities  could 
have  brought  about  the  stopping  of  the  express  at 
Hornville  and  later  on  at  Crowndale. 

Barnes  smiled  grimly.  "I've  just  thought  of  a 
way  to  fool  you,  my  friend,"  he  said  to  himself,  and 
was  turning  away  when  a  familiar  voice  assailed  him. 

Whirling,  he  looked  into  the  face  of  a  man  who 
stood  almost  at  his  elbow, — the  sharp,  impassive 
face  of  Mr.  Sprouse. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    FIRST    WAYFARER    HAS    ONE     TREASURE    THRUST 
UPON  HIM AND  FORTHWITH   CLAIMS  ANOTHER 

THAT  fellow  is  a  rat-catcher,"  said  Sprouse. 
"What   are   you  doing   here?"   demanded 
Barnes,  staring.     He  seized  the  man's   arm 
and  inquired  eagerly:     "Have  you  got  the  jewels?" 

"No;  but  I  will  have  them  before  morning,"  re 
plied  Sprouse  coolly.  He  shot  a  furtive  glance 
around  the  deserted  lobby.  "Better  not  act  as 
though  you  knew  me.  That  bull  is  no  fool.  He 
doesn't  know  me,  but  by  this  time  he  knows  who 
you  are." 

"He  is  trailing  Peter  Ames." 

"Ship  Peter  to-morrow,"  advised  Sprouse 
promptly. 

"I  had  already  thought  of  doing  so,"  said  Barnes, 
surprised  by  the  uncanny  promptness  of  the  man  in 
hitting  upon  the  strategy  he  had  worked  out  for 
himself  after  many  harassing  hours.  "He  goes  to 
my  sister's  place  to-morrow  morning." 

"Send  him  by  train.  He  will  be  easier  to  follow. 
There  is  a  train  leaving  for  the  south  at  9:15." 

"You    were    saying    that    before    morning    you 

would " 

321 


GREEN  FANCY 

"Be  careful !  Don't  whisper.  People  don't  whis 
per  to  utter  strangers.  Step  over  here  by  the  front 
door.  Would  you  be  surprised  if  I  were  to  tell  you 
that  his  royal  nibs  is  hiding  in  this  town?  Well,  he 
certainly  is.  He  bought  a  railway  ticket  for  Al 
bany  at  Hornville  the  day  he  beat  it,  but  he  got 
off  at  the  second  station, — which  happens  to  be 
this  one." 

"How  can  you  be  sure  of  all  this?" 

"Simple  as  falling  off  a  log,"  said  Sprouse,  squint 
ing  over  his  shoulder.  "The  Baroness  Hedlund  has 
been  here  for  a  week  or  ten  days.  The  Baron  wasn't 
so  far  wrong  in  his  suspicions,  you  see.  He  lost 
track  of  her,  that's  all.  I  happened  to  overhear  a 
conversation  at  Hart's  Tavern  between  him  and  his 
secretary.  I  have  a  way  of  hearing  things  I'm  not 
supposed  to  hear,  you  know.  By  a  curious  coinci 
dence  I  happened  to  be  taking  the  air  late  one  night 
just  outside  his  window  at  the  Tavern, — on  the  roof 
of  the  porch,  to  be  accurate.  I  told  Ugo  what  I'd 
heard  and  he  nearly  broke  his  neck  trying  to  head 
her  off.  O'Dowd  and  De  Soto  rushed  over  to  Horn 
ville  and  telegraphed  for  her  to  leave  the  train  at  the 
first  convenient  place  and  return  to  New  York.  She 
was  on  her  way  up  here,  you  see.  She  got  off  at 
Crowndale  and  everybody  supposed  that  she  had 
taken  the  next  train  home.  But  she  didn't  do  any 
thing  of  the  kind.  She  is  a  silly,  obstinate  fool  and 
she's  crazy  about  Ugo, — and  jealous  as  fury.  She 
hated  to  think  of  him  being  up  here  with  other 
women.  A  day  or  so  later  she  sent  him  a  letter. 


No  one  saw  that  letter  but  Ugo,  and — your  humble 
servant. 

"I  happened  to  be  the  one  to  go  to  Spanish  Falls 
for  the  mail  that  day.  The  postmark  excited  my 
curiosity.  If  I  told  you  what  I  did  to  that  letter 
before  delivering  it  to  Mr.  Loeb,  you  could  send 
me  to  a  federal  prison.  But  that's  how  I  came  to 
know  that  she  had  decided  to  wait  in  Crowndale 
until  he  sent  word  that  the  coast  was  clear.  She 
went  to  the  big  sanatorium  outside  the  town  and 
has  been  there  ever  since,  incognito,  taking  a  cure 
for  something  or  other.  She  goes  by  the  name  of 
Mrs.  Hasselwein.  I  popped  down  here  this  after 
noon  and  found  out  that  she  is  still  at  the  sana 
torium  but  expects  to  leave  early  to-morrow  morn 
ing.  Her  trunks  are  over  at  the  station  now,  to  be 
expressed  to  Buffalo.  I  made  another  trip  out 
there  this  evening  and  waited.  About  eight  o'clock 
Mr.  Hasselwein  strolled  up.  He  sat  on  the  verandah 
with  her  for  half  an  hour  or  so  and  then  left.  I 
followed  him.  He  went  to  one  of  the  little  cottages 
that  belong  to  the  sanatorium.  I  couldn't  get  close 
enough  to  hear  what  they  said,  but  I  believe  he  ex 
pects  to  take  her  away  in  an  automobile  early  in 
the  morning.  It  is  a  seventy  mile  ride  from  here  to 
the  junction  where  they  catch  the  train  for  the 
west.  I'm  going  up  now  to  make  a  call  on  Mr.  Has 
selwein.  Would  you  like  to  join  me?" 

Barnes  eyed  him  narrowly.  "There  is  only  one 
reason  why  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  accompany  you," 
he  said.  "If  you  have  it  in  your  mind  to  kill  him, 


GREEN  FANCY 

I  certainly  shall  do  everything  in  my  power  to  pre 
vent " 

"Possess  your  soul  in  peace.  I'm  not  going  to  do 
anything  foolish.  Time  enough  left  for  that  sort 
of  thing.  I  will  get  him  some  day,  but  not  now. 
By  the  way,  what  is  the  number  of  your  room?" 

"Twenty-two, — on  the  next  floor." 

"Good.  Go  upstairs  now  and  I'll  join  you  in 
about  ten  minutes.  I  will  tap  three  times  on  your 
door." 

"Why  should  you  come  to  my  room,  Sprouse? 
We  can  say  all  that  is  to  be  said " 

"If  you  will  look  on  the  register  you  will  discover 
that  Mr.  J.  H.  Prosser  registered  here  about  half 
an  hour  ago.  He  is  in  room  30.  He  left  a  call 
for  five  o'clock.  Well,  Prosser  is  another  name  for 
Ugo" 

"Here  in  this  hotel?  In  room  30?"  cried  Barnes, 
incredulously. 

"Sure  as  you're  alive.  Left  the  cottage  an  hour 
ago.  Came  in  a  jitney  or  I  could  have  got  to  him 
on  the  way  over." 

Barnes,  regardless  of  consequences,  dashed  over 
to  inspect  the  register.  Sprouse  followed  leisurely, 
shooting  anxious  glances  up  the  stairs  at  the  end 
of  the  lobby. 

"See !"  cried  Barnes,  excitedly,  putting  his  finger 
on  the  name  "Miss  Jones."  "She's  in  room  32, — 
next  to  his.  By  gad,  Sprouse,  do  you  suppose  he 
knows  that  she  is  here?  Would  the  dog 
anything " 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     325 

"You  may  be  sure  he  doesn't  know  she's  here,  or 
you  either,  for  that  matter.  The  country's  full  of 
Joneses  and  Barneses.  Go  on  upstairs.  Leave 
everything  to  me." 

He  strolled  away  as  the  clerk  came  shuffling  down 
the  steps.  As  Barnes  mounted  them,  he  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  and  saw  Sprouse  take  up  a  suit 
case  near  the  door  and  return  to  the  desk,  evidently 
for  the  purpose  of  engaging  a  room  for  the  night. 

Before  going  to  his  room,  he  strode  lightly  down 
the  hall  in  the  direction  of  room  30.  There  was 
no  light  in  the  transom.  Stepping  close  to  the  door, 
he  listened  intently  for  sounds  from  within.  He 
started  back  almost  instantly.  The  occupant  was 
snoring  with  extreme  heartiness. 

A  glance  revealed  a  light  in  the  transom  of  room 
32.  As  he  looked,  however,  it  disappeared. 
Abashed,  he  turned  and  went  swiftly  away.  She 
was  going  to  bed.  He  felt  like  a  snooping,  despica 
ble  "peeping  Tom"  caught  in  the  act. 

He  had  been  in  his  room  for  twenty  minutes  be 
fore  he  heard  the  tapping  on  his  door.  He  opened 
it  and  Sprouse  slid  into  the  room.  The  instant  the 
door  closed  behind  him,  he  threw  open  his  coat  and 
coolly  produced  a  long,  shallow  metal  box,  such  as 
one  finds  in  safety  vaults. 

"With  my  compliments,"  he  said  drily,  thrusting 
the  box  into  Barnes's  hands.  "YouM  better  have 
the  Countess  check  them  up  and  see  if  they're  all 
there.  I  am  not  well  enough  acquainted  with  the 
collection  to  be  positive." 


GREEN  FANCY 

Barnes  was  speechless.  He  could  only  stare, 
open-mouthed,  at  this  amazing  man. 

"Grip  'em  tight,"  went  on  Sprouse,  grinning.  "I 
may  relieve  you  of  them  if  you  get  too  careless.  My 
advice  to  you  is  to  hide  them  and  keep  your  lips 
closed " 

"My  God,  Sprouse,  have  you  been  in  that  man's 
room  since  I  saw  you  down " 

"I  forgot  to  say  that  no  questions  were  to  be 
asked,"  broke  in  the  other. 

"But  I  insist  upon  having  everything  cleared  up. 
Here  am  I  with  a  box  of  jewels  stolen  from  a  lodg 
er's  room,  God  knows  how,  and  in  danger  of  being 
slapped  into  jail  if  they  catch  me  with  the " 

"All  you  have  to  do  is  to  keep  quiet  and  look  in 
nocent.  Stay  out  of  the  hall  to-night.  Don't  go 
near  the  door  of  No.  30.  Act  like  a  man  with  brains. 
I  said  I  would  square  myself  with  you  and  with  him, 
too.  Well,  I've  done  both.  Maybe  you  think  it  is 
easy  to  give  up  this  stuff.  There  is  a  half  million 
dollars'  worth  of  nice  little  things  in  that  box,  small 
as  it  is.  I  went  to  a  lot  of  trouble  to  get  'em,  and 
all  I'll  receive  for  my  pains  is  a  thank  you  from 
Mr.  Thomas  K.  Barnes,  New  York." 

"I  cannot  begin  to  thank  you  enough,"  said 
Barnes.  "See  here,  you  must  allow  me  to  reward 
you  in  some  way  commensurate  with  your " 

"Cut  that  out,"  said  Sprouse  darkly.  "I'm  not 
so  damned  virtuous  that  I  have  to  be  rewarded.  I 
like  the  game.  It's  the  breath  of  life  to  me." 

"The  time  will  surely  come  when  I  can  do  you 


a  good  turn,  Sprouse,  and  you  will  not  find  me  re 
luctant,"  said  Barnes,  lamely.  He  was  completely 
at  a  loss  in  the  presence  of  the  master-crook.  He 
felt  very  small,  and  stupid,  and  inadequate, — as  one 
always  feels  when  confronted  by  genius.  Moreover, 
he  was  utterly  stupefied. 

"That's  different.  If  I  ever  need  a  friendly  hand 
1*11  call  on  you.  It's  only  fair  that  I  should  give  you 
a  tip,  Barnes,  just  to  put  you  on  your  guard.  I've 
lived  up  to  my  word  in  this  business,  and  I've  done 
all  that  I  said  I  would.  From  now  on,  I'm  a  free 
agent.  I  want  to  advise  you  to  put  that  stuff  in  a 
safe  place.  I'll  give  you  two  days'  start.  After 
that,  if  I  can  get  'em  away  from  you,  or  whoever 
may  have  them,  I'm  going  to  do  it.  They  will  be 
fair  plunder  from  then  on.  Notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  I  put  them  in  your  hands  to-night, — and 
so  wash  my  own  of  them  temporarily, — I  haven'fc  a 
single  scruple  about  relieving  you  of  them  on  some 
later  occasion.  I  may  have  to  crack  you  over  the 
head  to  do  it, — so  a  word  to  the  wise  ought  to  be 
sufficient.  If  you  don't  guard  them  pretty  closely, 
my  friend,  you  will  regain  consciousness  some  day 
and  find  you  haven't  got  them  any  longer.  Good 
night — and  good-bye  for  the  present.  Stick  close 
to  your  room  till  morning  and — then  beat  it  with 
her  for  New  York.  I  give  you  two  days'  start,  re 
member." 

He  switched  off  the  light  suddenly.  Barnes 
gasped  and  prepared  to  defend  himself.  Sprouse 
chuckled. 


328  GREEN  FANCY 

"Don't  be  nervous.  I'm  merely  getting  ready  to 
leave  you  with  your  ill-gotten  gains.  It  isn't  wise, 
you  see,  to  peep  out  of  a  door  with  a  light  in  the 
room  behind  you.  Keep  cool.  I  sha'n't  be  more 
than  a  minute." 

There  was  no  sound  for  many  seconds,  save  the 
deep  breathing  of  the  two  men.  Then,  with  infinite 
caution,  Sprouse  turned  the  knob  and  opened  the 
door  a  half  inch  or  so.  He  left  the  room  so  ab 
ruptly  that  Barnes  never  quite  got  over  the  weird 
impression  that  he  squeezed  through  that  slender 
crack,  and  pulled  it  after  him! 

Many  minutes  passed  before  he  turned  on  the 
light.  The  key  of  the  box  was  tied  to  the  wire 
grip.  With  trembling  fingers  he  inserted  it  in  the 
lock  and  opened  the  lid.  .  .  .  "A  half-million  dol 
lars'  worth  of  nice  little  things,"  Sprouse  had  said ! 

J£e  did  not  close  his  eyes  that  night.  Daybreak 
found  him  lying  in  bed,  with  the  box  under  his  pil 
low,  a  pistol  at  hand,  and  his  eyes  wide-open.  He 
was  in  a  graver  quandary  than  ever.  Now  that  he 
had  the  treasure  in  his  possession,  what  was  he  to 
do  with  it  ?  He  did  not  dare  to  leave  it  in  the  room, 
nor  was  it  advisable  to  carry  it  about  with  him. 
The  discovery  of  the  burglary  in  room  30  would 
result  in  a  search  of  the  house,  from  top  to  bottom. 

Cold  perspiration  started  out  on  his  brow.  The 
situation  was  far  from  being  the  happy  one  that  he 
had  anticipated. 

He  solved  the  breakfast  problem  by  calling  down 
stairs  for  a  waiter  and  ordering  coffee  and  rolls  and 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     329 

eggs  sent  up  to  his  room.  Singularly  enough  the 
waiter  solved  the  other  and  more  disturbing  prob 
lem  for  him. 

"Some  robbery  last  night,"  said  that  worthy,  as 
he  re-appeared  with  the  tray. 

Barnes  was  thankful  that  the  waiter  was  not  look 
ing  at  him  when  he  hurled  the  bomb,  figuratively 
speaking.  He  had  a  moment's  time  to  recover. 

"What  robbery?"  he  enquired,  feigning  indiffer 
ence. 

"Feller  up  in  one  of  the  cottages  at  the  sana 
torium.  All  beat  up,  something  fierce  they  say." 

"Up  in —  Where?"  almost  shouted  Barnes,  start 
ing  up. 

The  man  explained  where  the  cottages  were  situ 
ated,  Barnes  listening  as  one  completely  bereft  of 
intelligence. 

"Seems  he  was  to  leave  by  auto  early  this  morn- 
in',  and  they  didn't  know  anything  was  wrong  till 
Joe  Keep — he's  driving  a  Fierce-Arrow  that  Mr. 
Norton  has  for  rent — till  Joe'd  been  settin'  out  in 
front  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  The  man's  wife  was 
waitin'  fer  him  up  at  the  main  buildin'  and  she  got 
so  tired  waitin'  that  she  sent  one  of  the  clerks  down 
to  see  what  was  keeping  her  husband.  Well,  sir, 
him  and  Joe  couldn't  wake  the  feller,  so  they  climb 
in  an  open  winder,  an'  by  gosh,  Joe  says  it  was  ter 
rible.  The  feller  was  layin'  on  the  bed,  feet  an'  hands 
tied  and  gagged,  and  blood  from  head  to  foot.  He 
was  inconscious,  Joe  says,  an' — my  God,  how  his 
wife  took  on!  Joe  says  he  couldn't  stand  it,  so  he 


330  GREEN  FANCY 

snook  out,  shakin'  like  a  leaf.  He  says  she's  a  pip 
pin,  too.  Never  seen  a  purtier " 

"Is — is  the  man  dead?"  cried  Barnes,  aghast. 
He  felt  that  his  face  was  as  white  as  chalk. 

"Nope!  Seems  like  it's  nothing  serious:  just  beat 
up,  that's  all.  Terrible  cuts  on  his  head  and " 

"What  is  his  name?"  demanded  Barnes. 

"Something  like  Hackensack." 

"Have  they  caught  the  thief?" 

"I  should  say  not.  The  police  never  ketch  any 
thing  but  drunks  in  this  burg,  and  they  wouldn't 
ketch  them  if  they  could  keep  from  stumblin'." 

"What  time  did  all  this  happen?"  Barnes  was 
having  great  difficulty  in  keeping  his  coffee  from 
splashing  over. 

"Doc  Smith  figgers  it  was  long  about  midnight, 
judgin'  by  the  way  the  blood  co'gulated." 

"Did  they  get  away  with  much?" 

"Haven't  heard.  Joe  says  the  stove  pipe  in  the 
feller's  room  was  knocked  down  and  they's  soot  all 
over  everything.  Looks  like  they  must  have  been 
a  struggle.  Seems  as  though  the  burglar, — must  ha' 
been  more'n  one  of  'em,  I  say, — wasn't  satisfied 
with  cracking  him  over  the  head.  He  stuck  the  point 
of  a  knife  or  something  into  him, — just  a  little  way, 
Joe  says — in  more'n  a  dozen  places.  What  say?" 

"I — I  didn't  say  anything." 

"I  thought  you  did.  Well,  if  I  hear  anything 
more  I'll  let  you  know." 

"Anything  for  a  little  excitement,"  said  Barnes 
casually. 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     331 

He  listened  at  the  door  until  he  heard  the  waiter 
clattering  down  the  stairway,  and  then  went  swiftly 
down  the  hall  to  No.  30.  Mr.  Prosser  was  sleeping 
just  as  soundly  and  as  resoundingly  as  at  midnight! 

"By  gad!"  he  muttered,  half  aloud.  Everything 
was  as  clear  as  day  to  him  now.  Bolting  into  his 
own  room,  he  closed  the  door  and  stood  stockstill 
for  many  minutes,  trying  to  picture  the  scene  in  the 
cottage. 

No  stretch  of  the  imagination  was  required  to  es 
tablish  the  facts.  Sprouse  had  come  to  him  during 
the  night  with  Prince  Ugo's  blood  on  the  hands  that 
bore  the  treasure.  He  had  surprised  and  overpow 
ered  the  pseudo  Mr.  Hasselwein,  and  had  actually 
tortured  him  into  revealing  the  hiding  place  of  the 
jewels.  The  significance  of  the  scattered  stove  pipe 
was  not  lost  on  Barnes;  it  had  not  been  knocked 
down  in  a  struggle  between  the  two  men.  Prince 
Ugo  was  not,  and  never  had  been,  in  a  position  to 
defend  himself  against  his  wily  assailant.  Barnes's 
blood  ran  cold  as  he  went  over  in  his  mind  the  piti 
less  method  employed  by  Sprouse  in  subduing  his 
royal  victim.  And  the  coolness,  the  unspeakable 
bravado  of  the  man  in  coming  direct  to  him  with 
the  booty!  His  amazingly  clever  subterfuge  in  al 
lowing  Barnes  to  think  that  room  No.  30  was  the 
scene  of  his  operations,  thereby  forcing  him  to  re 
main  inactive  through  fear  of  consequences  to  him 
self  and  the  Countess  if  he  undertook  to  investigate ! 

He  found  a  letter  in  his  box  when  he  went  down 
stairs,  after  stuffing  the  tin  box  deep  into  his  pack, — 


332  /      GREEN  FANCY 

a  risky  thing  to  do  he  realised,  but  no  longer  perilous 
in  the  light  of  developments.  It  was  no  longer  prob 
able  that  his  effects  would  be  subjected  to  inspec 
tion  by  the  police.  He  walked  over  to  a  window  to 
read  the  letter.  Before  he  slit  the  envelope  he 
knew  that  Sprouse  was  the  writer.  The  message 
was  brief. 

"After  due  consideration,  I  feel  that  it  would 
be  a  mistake  for  you  to  abandon  your  present 
duties  at  this  time.  It  might  be  misunderstood. 
Stick  to  the  company  until  something  better  turns 
up.  With  this  thought  in  view  I  withdraw  the 
two  days'  limit  mentioned  recently  to  you,  and 
extend  the  time  to  one  week.  Yours  very  truly, 
J.  H.  WILSON." 

"Gad,  the  fellow  thinks  of  everything,"  said 
Barnes  to  himself.  "He  is  positively  uncanny." 

He  read  between  the  lines,  and  saw  there  a  dis 
tinct  warning.  It  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  his 
plan  to  leave  for  New  York  that  day  with  Miss  Cam 
eron  might  be  attended  by  disastrous  results. 

On  reflection,  he  found  the  prospect  far  from  dis 
agreeable.  A  week  or  so  with  the  Rushcroft  com 
pany  was  rather  attractive  under  the  circumstances. 
The  idea  appealed  to  him. 

But  the  jewels?  What  of  them?  He  could  not 
go  gallivanting  about  the  country  with  a  half  mil 
lion  dollars'  worth  of  precious  stones  in  his  posses 
sion.  A  king's  ransom  strapped  on  his  back!  He 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     333 

would  not  be  able  to  sleep  a  wink.  Indeed,  he  could 
see  himself  wasting  away  to  a  mere  shadow  through 
worry  and  dread.  Precious  stones?  They  would 
develop  into  millstones,  he  thought,  with  an  inward 
groan. 

He  questioned  the  advisability  of  informing  Miss 
Cameron  that  the  crown  jewels  were  in  his  posses 
sion.  Her  anxiety  would  be  far  greater  than  his 
own.  There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  telling 
her  in  any  case;  so  he  decided  to  bear  the  burden 
alone. 

The  play  was  not  to  open  in  Crowndale  until 
Tuesday  night,  three  full  days  off.  He  revelled  in 
the  thought  of  sitting  "out  front"  in  the  empty  lit 
tle  theatre,  watching  the  rehearsals.  At  such  times 
he  was  confident  that  his  thoughts  would  not  be 
solely  of  the  jewels.  He  would  at  least  have  sur 
cease  during  these  periods  of  forgetfulness. 

He  spent  the  early  part  of  the  forenoon  in  wan 
dering  nervously  about  the  hotel, — upstairs  and 
down.  The  jewels  were  locked  in  his  pack  upstairs. 
He  went  up  to  his  room  half  a  dozen  times  and  al 
most  instantly  walked  down  again,  after  satisfying 
himself  that  the  pack  had  not  been  rifled. 

Exasperation  filled  his  soul.  Ten  o'clock  came 
and  still  no  sign  of  the  lazy  actors.  Rehearsal  at 
eleven,  and  not  one  of  them  out  of  bed. 

Peter  came  to  the  hotel  soon  after  ten.  He  had 
forgotten  Peter  and  his  decision  to  send  him  down 
to  the  Berkshires  that  day,  and  was  sharply  remind 
ed  of  the  necessity  for  doing  so  by  the  appearance 


334  GREEN  FANCY 

of  the  man  who  had  registered  just  before  midnight. 
This  individual  strolled  casually  into  the  lobby  a 
few  seconds  behind  Peter. 

He  acted  at  once  and  with  decision.  The  stran 
ger  took  a  seat  in  the  window  not  far  away.  Barnes, 
in  a  brisk  and  business-like  tone,  informed  Peter 
that  he  was  to  leave  on  the  one  o'clock  train  for  the 
south,  and  to  go  direct  to  his  sister's  place  near 
Stockbridge.  He  was  to  leave  the  automobile  in 
Crowndale  for  the  present. 

"Here  is  the  money  for  your  railroad  fare,"  he  an 
nounced  in  conclusion.  "I  have  telegraphed  Mrs. 
Courtney's  man  that  you  will  arrive  this  evening. 
He  will  start  you  in  on  your  duties  to-morrow.  I 
understand  they  are  short-handed  on  the  place.  And 
now  let  me  impress  upon  you,  Peter,  the  importance 
of  holding  yourself  ready  to  report  when  needed. 
You  know  what  I  mean.  Remember,  I  have  guaran 
teed  that  you  will  appear." 

The  stranger  drank  in  every  word  that  passed 
between  the  two  men.  When  the  one  o'clock  train 
pulled  out  of  Crowndale,  it  carried  Peter  Ames  in 
one  of  the  forward  coaches,  and  a  late  guest  of  the 
Grand  Palace  Hotel  in  the  next  car  behind.  Barnes 
took  the  time  to  assure  himself  of  these  facts,  and 
smiled  faintly  as  he  drove  away  from  the  railway 
station  after  the  departure  of  the  train.  Miss  Cam 
eron,  her  veil  lowered,  sat  beside  him  in  the  "hack." 

For  the  next  three  days  and  nights  rehearsals  were 
in  full  swing,  with  scarcely  a  moment's  let-up.  The 
Rushcroft  company  was  increased  by  the  arrival 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     335 

of  three  new  members  and  several  pieces  of  baggage. 
The  dingy  barn  of  a  theatre  was  the  scene  of  cease 
less  industry,  both  peaceful  and  otherwise.  The 
actors  quarrelled  and  fumed  and  all  but  fought  over 
their  grievances.  Only  the  presence  of  the  "backer" 
and  the  extremely  pretty  and  cultured  "friend  of  the 
family"  in  "front"  prevented  sanguinary  encounters 
among  the  male  contenders  for  the  centre  of  the 
stage.  The  usually  placid  Mr.  Dillingford  was 
transformed  into  a  snarling  beast  every  time  one  of 
his  "lines"  was  cut  out  by  the  relentless  Rushcroft, 
and  there  were  times  when  Mr.  Bacon  loudly  ac 
cused  his  financee  of  "crabbing"  his  part.  Every 
body  called  everybody  else  a  "hog,"  and  God  was 
asked  a  hundred  times  a  day  to  bear  witness  to  as 
many  atrocities. 

Each  day  the  bewildered,  distressed  young  woman 
who  sat  with  Barnes  in  the  dim  "parquet,"  whispered 
in  his  ear: 

"Can  they  ever  be  friendly  again?" 

And  every  night  at  supper  she  rejoiced  to  find 
them  all  on  the  best  of  terms,  calling  each  other 
"dearie,"  and  "old  chap,"  and  "honey,"  and  declar 
ing  that  no  such  company  had  ever  been  gotten  to 
gether  in  the  history  of  the  stage!  Such  words  as 
"slob,"  "fat-head,"  "boob"  or  "you  poor  nut"  never 
found  their  way  outside  the  sacred  precincts  of  the 
theatre. 

Mr.  Rushcroft  magnanimously  offered  to  coach 
"Miss  Jones"  in  the  part  he  was  going  to  write  in 
for  her  just  as  soon  as  he  could  get  around  to  it. 


336  GREEN  FANCY 

"No  use  writing  a  part  for  her,  Mr.  Barnes,  until 
I  get  through  beating  the  parts  we  already  have 
into  the  heads  of  these  poor  fools  up  here.  I've  got 
trouble  enough  on  my  hands." 

And  so  the  time  crept  by,  up  to  the  night  of  the 
performance.  Miss  Cameron  remained  in  ignorance 
of  the  close  proximity  of  the  jewels,  and  the  po 
lice  of  Crowndale  remained  in  even  denser  ignorance 
as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  man  who  robbed  Mr. 
Hasselwein  of  all  his  spare  cash  and  an  excellent 
gold  watch. 

Hasselwein's  story  was  brief  but  dramatic.  He 
was  recovering  rapidly  from  his  experience  and  the 
local  newspaper,  on  Tuesday,  announced  that  he 
would  be  strong  enough  to  accompany  his  wife  when 
she  left  the  "city"  toward  the  end  of  the  week.  (Con 
siderable  space  was  employed  by  the  reporter  in 
"writing  up"  the  wonderful  devotion  of  Mrs.  Has 
selwein,  who,  despite  the  fact  that  she  was  quite  an 
invalid,  conducted  herself  with  rare  fortitude,  sel 
dom  leaving  her  husband's  room  in  the  hospital.) 

According  to  the  injured  man,  his  assailant  was 
a  huge,  powerful  individual,  wearing  a  mask  and 
armed  to  the  teeth.  He  came  in  through  an  open 
windp^i  and  attacked  him  while  he  was  asleep  in 
bed.  Notwithstanding  the  stunning  blow  he  received 
while  prostrate,  Mr.  Hasselwein  struggled  to  his 
feet  and  engaged  the  miscreant — (while  the  word 
was  used  at  least  twenty  times  in  the  newspaper  ac 
count,  I  promise  to  use  it  but  once) — in  a  desperate 
conflict.  Loss  of  blood  weakened  him  and  he  soon 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     337 

fell  exhausted  upon  the  bed.  To  make  the  story 
even  shorter  than  Prince  Ugo  made  it,  not  a  word 
was  said  about  the  jewels,  and  that,  after  all,  is  the 
only  feature  of  the  case  in  which  we  are  interested. 

Barnes  smiled  grimly  over  Ugo's  failure  to  men 
tion  the  jewels,  and  the  misleading  description  of 
the  thief.  He  was  thankful,  however,  and  relieved 
to  learn  that  the  one  man  who  might  recognise  Miss 
Cameron  was  not  likely  to  leave  the  hospital  short 
of  a  week's  time. 

No  time  was  lost  by  the  Countess  in  getting  word 
to  her  compatriots  in  New  York.  Barnes  posted 
a  dozen  letters  for  her;  each  contained  the  tidings 
of  her  safety  and  the  assurance  that  she  would  soon 
follow  in  person. 

Those  three  days  and  nights  were  full  of  joy  and 
enchantment  for  Barnes.  True,  he  did  not  sleep 
very  well, — indeed,  scarcely  at  all, — but  it  certainly 
was  not  a  hardship  to  lie  awake  and  think  of  her 
throughout  the  whole  of  each  blessed  night.  He  re 
called  and  secretly  dilated  upon  every  sign  of  de 
creasing  reserve  on  her  part.  He  shamed  himself 
more  than  once  for  deploring  the  fact  that  her  ankle 
was  mending  with  uncommon  rapidity,  and  that  in  a 
few  days  she  would  be  quite  able  to  walk  without 
support.  And  he  actually  debased  himself  by  wish 
ing  that  the  Rushcroft  company  might  find  it  im 
perative  to  go  on  rehearsing  for  weeks  in  that  dim, 
enchanted  temple. 

It  was  not  a  "barn  of  a  place"  to  him.  It  was 
paradise.  He  sat  for  hours  in  one  of  the  most  un- 


338  GREEN  FANCY 

comfortable  seats  he  had  ever  known,  devouring  with 
hungry  eyes  the  shadowy,  interested  face  so  close  to 
his  own, — and  never  tired. 

And  then  came  a  time  at  last  when  conversation 
became  difficult  between  them;  when  there  were  long 
silences  fraught  with  sweet  peril,  exceeding  shyness, 
and  a  singular  form  of  deafness  that  defied  even  the 
roars  of  the  players  and  yet  permitted  them  to  hear, 
with  amazing  clearness,  the  faintest  of  heart-beats. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  dress  rehearsal,  he  led 
her,  after  an  hour  of  almost  insupportable  repres 
sion,  to  the  rear  of  the  auditorium,  in  the  region 
made  gloomy  by  the  shelving  gallery  overhead. 
Dropping  into  the  seat  beside  her,  he  blurted  out, 
almost  in  anguish: 

"I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  cannot  be  near 
you  without — why,  I — I — well,  it  is  more  than  I  can 
struggle  against,  that's  all.  You've  either  got  to 
send  me  away  altogether  or — or — let  me  love  you 
without  restraint.  I  tell  you,  I  can't  go  on  as  I  am 
now.  I  must  speak,  I  must  tell  you  all  that  has 
been  in  my  heart  for  days.  I  love  you — I  love  you ! 
You  know  I  love  you,  don't  you?  You  know  I  wor 
ship  you.  Don't  be  frightened.  I  just  had  to  tell 
you  to-day.  I  could  not  have  held  it  back  another 
hour.  I  should  have  gone  mad  if  I  had  tried  to  keep 
it  up  any  longer."  He  waited  breathlessly  for  her 
to  speak.  She  sat  silent  and  rigid,  looking  straight 
before  her.  "Is  it  hopeless?"  he  went  on  at  last, 
huskily.  "Must  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for  my  pre 
sumption  and — and  go  away  from  you?" 


TREASURE  THRUST  UPON  HIM     339 

She  turned  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Am  I  not  like  other  women?  Have  you  forgot 
ten  that  you  once  said  that  I  was  not  different? 
Why  should  I  forgive  you  for  loving  me?  Doesn't 
every  woman  want  to  be  loved?  No,  no,  my  friend! 
Wait!  A  moment  ago  I  was  so  weak  and  trembly 
that  I  thought  I — Oh,  I  was  afraid  for  myself.  Now 
I  am  quite  calm  and  sensible.  See  how  well  I  have 
myself  in  hand  ?  I  do  not  tremble,  I  am  strong.  We 
may  now  discuss  ourselves  calmly,  sensibly.  A  mo 
ment  ago — Ah,  then  it  was  different!  I  was  being 
drawn  into — Oh!  What  are  you  doing?" 

"I  too  am  strong,"  he  whispered.  "I  am  sure  of 
my  ground  now,  and  I  am  not  afraid." 

He  had  clasped  the  hand  that  rested  on  his  sleeve 
and,  as  he  pressed  it  to  his  heart,  his  other  arm 
stole  over  her  shoulders  and  drew  her  close  to  his 
triumphant  body.  For  an  instant  she  resisted,  and 
then  relaxed  into  complete  submission.  Her  head 
sank  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Oh!"  she  sighed,  and  there  was  wonder,  joy — 
even  perplexity,  in  the  tremulous  sign  of  capitula 
tion.  "Oh,"  came  softly  from  her  parted  lips  again 
at  the  end  of  the  first  long,  passionate  kiss. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    END    IN    SIGHT 

ARNES,  soaring  beyond  all  previous  heights 
of  exaltation,  ranged  dizzily  between  "front" 
and  "back"  at  the  Grand  Opera  House  that 
evening.  He  was  supposed  to  remain  "out  front" 
until  the  curtain  went  up  on  the  second  act.  But 
the  presence  of  the  Countess  in  Miss  Thackeray's 
barren,  sordid  little  dressing-room  rendered  it  ex 
ceedingly  difficult  for  him  to  remain  in  any  fixed 
spot  for  more  than  five  minutes  at  a  stretch.  He 
was  in  the  "wings"  with  her,  whispering  in  her  de 
lighted  ear;  in  the  dressing-room,  listening  to  her 
soft  words  of  encouragement  to  the  excited  leading- 
lady;  on  the  narrow  stairs  leading  up  to  the  stage, 
assisting  her  to  mount  them, — and  not  in  the  least 
minding  the  narrowness;  out  in  front  for  a  jiffy, 
and  then  back  again ;  and  all  the  time  he  was  dread 
ing  the  moment  when  he  would  awake  and  find  it  all 
a  dream. 

There  was  an  annoying  fly  in  the  ointment,  how 
ever.  Her  languorous  surrender  to  love,  her  phys 
ical  confession  of  defeat  at  the  hands  of  that  inex 
orable  power,  her  sweet  submission  to  the  conquering 
arms  of  the  besieger,  left  nothing  to  be  desired :  and 

340 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  341 

yet  there  was  something  that  stood  between  him  and 
utter  happiness:  her  resolute  refusal  to  bind  her 
self  to  any  promise  for  the  future. 

"I  love  you,"  she  had  said  simply.  "I  want  more 
than  anything  else  in  all  the  world  to  be  your  wife. 
But  I  cannot  promise  now.  I  must  have  time  to 
think,  time  to " 

"Why  should  you  require  more  time  than  I?"  he 
persisted.  "Have  we  not  shown  that  there  is  noth 
ing  left  for  either  of  us  but  to  make  the  other 
happy?  What  is  time  to  us?  Why  make  wanton 
waste  of  it?" 

"I  know  that  I  cannot  find  happiness  except  with 
you,"  she  replied.  "No  matter  what  happens  to  me, 
I  shall  always  love  you,  I  shall  never  forget  the  joy 
of  this.  But "  She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Would  you  go  back  to  your  people  and 
marry — "  he  swallowed  hard  and  went  on — "marry 
some  one  you  could  never  love,  not  even  respect, 
with  the  memory  of " 

"Stop !  I  shall  never  marry  a  man  I  do  not  love. 
Oh,  please  be  patient,  be  good  to  me.  Give  me  a 
little  time.  Can  you  not  see  that  you  are  asking  me 
to  alter  destiny,  to  upset  the  teachings  and  tradi 
tions  of  ages,  and  all  in  one  little  minute  of  weak 
ness?" 

"We  cannot  alter  destiny,"  he  said  stubbornly. 
"We  may  upset  tradition,  but  what  does  that  amount 
to  ?  We  have  but  one  life  to  live.  I  think  our  grand 
children  and  our  great-grandchildren  will  be  quite  as 
well  pleased  with  their  ancestors  as  their  royal  con- 


342  GREEN  FANCY 

temporaries  will  be  with  theirs  a  hundred  years  from 
now." 

"I  cannot  promise  now,"  she  said  gently,  and 
kissed  him. 

The  first  performance  of  "The  Duke's  Revenge" 
was  incredibly  bad.  The  little  that  Barnes  saw  of 
it,  filled  him  with  dismay.  Never  had  he  witnessed 
anything  so  hopeless  as  the  play,  unless  it  was  the 
actors  themselves.  But  more  incredible  than  any 
thing  else  in  connection  with  the  performance  was 
the  very  palpable  enjoyment  of  the  audience.  He 
could  hardly  believe  his  ears.  The  ranting,  the 
shouting,  the  howling  of  the  actors  sent  shivers  to 
the  innermost  recesses  of  his  being.  Then  suddenly 
he  remembered  that  he  was  in  the  heart  of  the  "barn 
stormer's"  domain.  The  audience  revelled  in  "The 
Duke's  Revenge"  because  they  had  never  seen  any 
thing  better! 

Between  the  second  and  third  acts  Tommy  Gray 
rushed  back  with  the  box-office  statement.  The 
gross  was  $359.  The  instant  that  fact  became 
known  to  Mr.  Rushcroft  he  informed  Barnes  that 
they  had  a  "knockout,"  a  gold  mine,  and  that  never 
in  all  his  career  had  he  known  a  season  to  start  off 
so  auspiciously  as  this  one. 

"It's  good  for  forty  weeks  solid,"  he  exclaimed. 
Both  Barnes  and  the  wide-eyed  Countess  became  in 
fused  with  the  spirit  of  jubilation  that  filled  the 
souls  of  these  time-worn,  hand-to-mouth  stragglers. 
They  rejoiced  with  them  in  their  sudden  elevation 
to  happiness,  and  overlooked  the  vain-glorious  claims 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  343 

of  each  individual  in  the  matter  of  personal  achieve 
ment.  Even  the  bewildered  Tilly  bleated  out  her 
little  cry  for  distinction. 

"Did  you  hear  them  laugh  at  the  way  I  got  off  my 
speech?"  she  cried  excitedly. 

"I  certainly  did,"  said  Mr.  Bacon  amiably.  "By 
gad,  I  laughed  at  it  myself." 

"Parquet  $217.50,  dress  circle  $105,  gallery 
$36.50,"  announced  Tommy  Gray,  as  he  donned  his 
wig  and  false  beard  for  the  third  act.  "Sixty-forty 
gives  us  $215.40  on  the  night.  Thank  God,  we 
won't  have  to  worry  about  the  sheriff  this  week." 

In  Miss  Thackeray's  dressing-room  that  level 
headed  young  woman  broke  down  and  wept  like  a 
child. 

"Oh,  Lord,"  she  stuttered,  "is  it  possible  that 
we're  going  to  stay  above  water  at  last?  I  thought 
we  had  gone  down  for  the  last  time,  and  here  we 
are  bobbing  up  again  as  full  of  ginger  as  if  we'd 
never  hit  the  bottom." 

The  Countess  kissed  her  and  told  her  that  she  was 
the  rarest  girl  she  had  ever  known,  the  pluckiest 
and  the  best. 

"If  I  had  your  good  looks,  Miss  Cameron,"  said 
Mercedes,  "added  to  my  natural  ability,  I'd  make 
Julia  Marlowe  look  like  an  old-fashioned  one-ring 
circus.  Send  Mr.  Bacon  to  me,  Mr.  Barnes.  I 
want  to  congratulate  him." 

"He  gave  a  fine  performance,"  said  Barnes 
promptly. 

"I  don't  want  to  congratulate  him  on  his  act- 


344  GREEN  FANCY 

ing,"  said  she,  smiling  through  her  tears.  "He's 
going  to  be  married  to-morrow.  And  I  am  going 
to  have  Miss  Cameron  for  my  bridesmaid,"  she  add 
ed,  throwing  an  arm  about  the  astonished  Countess. 
"Mr.  Bacon  will  want  Dilly  for  his  best  man,  but 
he  ought  to  think  more  of  the  general  effect  than 
that.  Dilly  only  comes  to  his  shoulder."  She 
measured  the  stalwart  figure  of  Thomas  Barnes  with 
an  appraising  eye.  "What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Barnes  ?" 

"I'll  do  it  with  the  greatest  pleasure,"  he  de 
clared. 

The  next  afternoon  in  the  town  of  Bittler  the 
Countess  Mara-DafanJa,  daughter  of  royalty,  and 
Thomas  Kingsbury  Barnes  "stood  up"  with  the 
happy  couple  during  a  lull  in  the  hastily  called  re 
hearsal  on  the  stage  of  Fisher's  Imperial  Theatre, 
and  Lyndon  Rushcroft  gave  the  bride  away.  There 
was  $107  in  the  house  that  night,  but  no  one  was 
down-hearted. 

"You  could  do  worse,  dear  heart,  than  to  marry 
one  of  us  care-free  Americans,"  whispered  Barnes 
to  the  girl  who  clung  to  his  arm  so  tightly  as  they 
entered  the  wings  in  the  wake  of  the  bride  and 
groom. 

And  she  said  something  in  reply  that  brought  a 
flush  of  mortification  to  his  cheek. 

"Oh,  it  would  be  wonderful  to  marry  a  man  who 
will  never  have  to  go  to  war.  A  brave  man  who  will 
not  have  to  be  a  soldier.'* 

The  unintentional  reflection  on  the  fighting  integ 
rity  of  his  country  struck  a  raw  spot  in  Barnes's 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  345 

pride.  He  knew  what  all  Europe  was  saying  about 
the  pussy-willow  attitude  of  the  United  States,  and 
he  squirmed  inwardly  despite  the  tribute  she  tendered 
him  as  an  individual.  He  was  not  a  "peace  at  any 
price"  citizen. 

He  gave  the  wedding  breakfast  at  one  o'clock  that 
night. 

Three  days  later  he  and  "Miss  Jones"  said  fare 
well  to  the  strollers  and  boarded  a  day  train  for 
New  York  City.  They  left  the  company  in  a  con 
dition  of  prosperity.  The  show  was  averaging  two 
hundred  dollars  nightly,  and  Mr.  Rushcroft  was  al 
ready  booking  return  engagements  for  the  early 
fall.  He  was  looking  forward  to  a  tour  of  Europe 
at  the  close  of  the  war. 

"My  boy,"  he  said  to  Barnes  on  the  platform  of 
the  railway  station,  "I  trust  you  will  forgive  me 
for  not  finding  a  place  in  our  remarkably  well-bal 
anced  cast  for  your  friend.  I  have  been  thinking 
a  great  deal  about  her  in  the  past  few  days,  and  it 
has  occurred  to  me  that  she  might  find  it  greatly  to 
her  advantage  to  accept  a  brief  New  York  engage 
ment  before  tackling  the  real  proposition.  It  won't 
take  her  long  to  find  out  whether  she  really  likes  it, 
and  whether  she  thinks  it  worth  while  to  go  on  with 
it.  Let  me  give  you  one  bit  of  advice,  my  dear  Miss 
Jones.  This  is  very  important.  The  name  of  Jones 
will  not  get  you  anywhere.  It  is  a  nice  old  family, 
fireside  name,  but  it  lacks  romance.  Chuck  it.  Start 
your  new  life  with  another  name,  my  dear.  God 


346  GREEN  FANCY 

bless  you!  Good  luck  and — good-bye  till  we  meet 
on  the  Rialto." 

"I  wonder  how  he  could  possibly  have  known," 
she  mused  aloud,  the  pink  still  in  her  cheeks  as  the 
train  pulled  out. 

"You  darling,"  cried  Barnes,  "he  doesn't  know. 
But  taking  it  by  and  large,  it  was  excellent  advice. 
The  brief  New  York  engagement  meets  with  my  ap 
proval,  and  so  does  the  change  of  name.  I  am  in  a 
position  to  supply  you  with  both." 

"Do  you  regard  Barnes  as  an  especially  attractive 
name?"  she  inquired,  dimpling. 

"It  has  the  virtue  of  beginning  with  B,  entitling 
it  to  a  place  well  toward  the  top  of  alphabetical 
lists.  A  very  handy  name  for  patronesses  at  char 
ity  bazaars,  and  so  forth.  People  never  look  below 
B  unless  to  make  sure  that  their  own  names  haven't 
been  omitted.  You  ought  to  take  that  into  consid 
eration.  If  you  can't  be  an  A,  take  the  next  best 
thing  offered.  Be  a  B." 

"You  almost  persuade  me,"  she  smiled. 

His  sister  met  them  at  the  Grand  Central  Ter 
minal. 

"It's  now  a  quarter  to  five,"  said  Barnes,  after 
the  greeting  and  presentation.  "Drop  me  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Bank,  Edith.  I  want  to  leave  some 
thing  in  my  safety  box  downstairs.  Sha'n't  be  more 
than  five  minutes." 

He  got  down  from  the  automobile  at  44th  Street 
and  shot  across  the  sidewalk  into  the  bank,  casting 
quick,  apprehensive  glances  through  the  five  o'clock 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  347 

crowd  on  the  avenue  as  he  sprinted.  In  his  hand 
he  lugged  the  heavy,  weatherbeaten  pack.  His  sister 
and  the  Countess  stared  after  him  in  amazement. 

Presently  he  emerged  from  the  bank,  still  carrying 
the  bag.  He  was  beaming.  A  certain  worried,  hag 
gard  expression  had  vanished  from  his  face  and  for 
the  first  time  in  eight  hours  he  treated  his  travelling 
wardrobe  with  scorn  and  indifference.  He  tossed 
it  carelessly  into  the  seat  beside  the  chauffeur,  and, 
springing  nimbly  into  the  car,  sank  back  with  a  pro 
digious  sigh  of  relief. 

"Thank  God,  they're  off  my  mind  at  last,"  he 
cried.  "That  is  the  first  good,  long  breath  I've  had 
in  a  week.  No,  not  now.  It's  a  long  story  and  I 
can't  tell  it  in  Fifth  Avenue.  It  would  be  extremely 
annoying  to  have  both  of  you  die  of  heart  failure 
with  all  these  people  looking  on." 

He  felt  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  knew  that  she 
was  looking  at  him  with  wide,  incredulous  eyes,  but 
he  faced  straight  ahead.  After  a  moment  or  two, 
she  snuggled  back  in  the  seat  and  cried  out  tremu 
lously  : 

"Oh,  how  wonderful — how  wonderful !" 

Mrs.  Courtney,  in  utter  ignorance,  inquired  po 
litely: 

"Isn't  it?  Have  you  never  been  in  New  York  be 
fore,  Miss  Cameron  ?  Strangers  always  find  it  quite 
wonderful  at  the " 

"How  are  all  the  kiddies,  Edith,  and  old  Bill?" 
broke  in  her  brother  hastily. 

He  was  terribly  afraid  that  the  girl  beside  him 


348  GREEN  FANCY 

was  preparing  to  shed  tears  of  joy  and  relief.  He 
could  feel  her  searching  in  her  jacket  pocket  for  a 
handkerchief. 

Mrs.  Courtney  was  not  only  curious  but  appre 
hensive.  She  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  who  Miss 
Cameron  was,  nor  where  her  brother  had  picked  her 
up.  But  she  saw  at  a  glance  that  she  was  lovely, 
and  her  soul  was  filled  with  strange  misgivings.  She 
was  like  all  sisters  who  have  pet  bachelor  brothers. 
She  hoped  that  poor  Tom  hadn't  gone  and  made  a 
fool  of  himself.  The  few  minutes'  conversation  she 
had  had  with  the  stranger  only  served  to  increase 
her  alarm.  Miss  Cameron's  voice  and  smile — and 
her  eyes! — were  positively  alluring. 

She  had  had  a  night  letter  from  Tom  that  morn 
ing  in  which  he  said  that  he  was  bringing  a  young 
lady  friend  down  from  the  north, — and  would  she 
meet  them  at  the  station  and  put  her  up  for  a  cou 
ple  of  days  ?  That  was  all  she  knew  of  the  dazzling 
stranger  up  to  the  moment  she  saw  her.  Immedi 
ately  after  that,  she  knew,  by  intuition,  a  great  deal 
more  about  her  than  Tom  could  have  told  in  vol 
umes  of  correspondence.  She  knew,  also,  that  Tom 
was  lost  forever! 

"Now,  tell  me,"  said  the  Countess,  the  instant  they 
entered  the  Courtney  apartment.  She  gripped  both 
of  his  arms  with  her  firm  little  hands,  and  looked 
straight  into  his  eyes,  eagerly,  hopefully.  She  had 
forgotten  Mrs.  Courtney's  presence,  she  had  not 
taken  the  time  to  remove  her  hat  or  jacket. 

"Let's  all  sit  down,"  said  he.    "My  knees  are  un- 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  349 

accountably  weak.  Come  along,  Ede.  Listen  to 
the  romance  of  my  life." 

And  when  the  story  was  finished,  the  Countess 
took  his  hand  in  hers  and  held  it  to  her  cool  cheek. 
The  tears  were  still  drowning  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  you  poor  dear !  Was  that  why  you  grew  so 
haggard,  and  pale,  and  hollow-eyed?" 

"Partly,"  said  he,  with  great  significance. 

"And  you  had  them  in  your  pack  all  the  time? 
You " 

"I  had  Sprouse's  most  solemn  word  not  to  touch 
them  for  a  week.  He  is  the  only  man  I  feared.  He 
is  the  only  one  who  could  have " 

"May  I  use  your  telephone,  Mrs.  Courtney?" 
cried  she,  suddenly.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  quiver 
ing  with  excitement.  "Pray  forgive  me  for  being 
so  ill-mannered,  but  I — I  must  call  up  one  or  two 
people  at  once.  They  are  my  friends.  I  have  writ 
ten  them,  but — but  I  know  they  are  waiting  to  see 
me  in  the  flesh  or  to  hear  my  voice.  You  will  under 
stand,  I  am  sure." 

Barnes  was  pacing  the  floor  nervously  when  his 
sister  returned  after  conducting  her  new  guest  to 
the  room  prepared  for  her.  The  Countess  was  at 
the  telephone  before  the  door  closed  behind  her 
hostess. 

"I  wish  you  had  been  a  little  more  explicit  in  your 
telegram,  Tom,"  she  said  peevishly.  "If  I  had  known 
who  she  is  I  wouldn't  have  put  her  in  that  room. 
Now,  I  shall  have  to  move  Aunt  Kate  back  into  it 
to-morrow,  and  give  Miss  Cameron  the  big  one  at 


350  GREEN  FANCY 

the  end  of  the  hall."  Which  goes  to  prove  that 
Tom's  sister  was  a  bit  of  a  snob  in  her  way.  "Stop 
walking  like  that,  and  come  here."  She  faced  him 
accusingly.  "Have  you  told  me  all  there  is  to  tell, 
sir?" 

"Can't  you  see  for  yourself,  Ede,  that  I'm  in  love 
with  her?  Desperately,  horribly,  madly  in  love  with 
her.  Don't  giggle  like  that!  I  couldn't  have  told 
you  while  she  was  present,  could  I?" 

"That  isn't  what  I  want  to  know.  Is  she  in  love 
with  you?  That's  what  I'm  after." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  but  frowned  anxiously. 

"She  is  perfectly  adorable,"  said  she,  and  was  at 
once  aware  of  a  guilty,  nagging  impression  that  she 
would  not  have  said  it  to  him  half  an  hour  earlier 
for  anything  in  the  world. 

The  Countess  was  strangely  white  and  subdued 
when  she  rejoined  them  later  on.  She  had  removed 
her  hat.  The  other  woman  saw  nothing  but  the 
wealth  of  sun-kissed  hair  that  rippled.  Barnes  went 
forward  to  meet  her,  filled  with  a  sudden  apprehen 
sion. 

"What  is  it?  You  are  pale  and — what  have  you 
heard?" 

She  stopped  and  looked  searchingly  into  his  eyes. 
A  warm  flush  rose  to  her  cheeks ;  her  own  eyes  grew 
soft  and  tender  and  wistful. 

"They  all  believe  that  the  war  will  last  two  or 
three  years  longer,"  she  said  huskily.  "I  cannot 
go  back  to  my  own  country  till  it  is  all  over.  They 
implore  me  to  remain  here  with  them  until — until 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  351 

my  fortunes  are  mended."  She  turned  to  Mrs. 
Courtney  and  went  on  without  the  slightest  trace 
of  indecision  or  embarrassment  in  her  manner.  "You 
see,  Mrs.  Courtney,  I  am  very,  very  poor.  They 
have  taken  everything.  I — I  fear  I  shall  have  to 

accept  the  kind,  the  generous  proffer  of  a "  her 

voice  shook  slightly — "of  a  home  with  my  friends 
until  the  Huns  are  driven  out." 

Barnes's  silence  was  more  eloquent  than  words. 
Her  eyes  fell.  Mrs.  Courtney's  words  of  sympathy 
passed  unheard;  her  bitter  excoriation  of  the  Teu 
tons  and  Turks  was  but  dimly  registered  on  the  in 
attentive  mind  of  the  victim  of  their  ruthless  greed ; 
not  until  she  expressed  the  hope  that  Miss  Cameron 
would  condescend  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  her 
home  until  plans  for  the  future  were  definitely  fixed 
was  there  a  sign  that  the  object  of  her  concern  had 
given  a  thought  to  what  she  was  saying. 

"You  are  so  very  kind,"  stammered  the  Countess. 
"But  I  cannot  think  of  imposing  upon " 

"Leave  it  to  me,  Ede,"  said  Barnes  gently,  and, 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  sister's  arm,  he  led  her 
from  the  room.  Then  he  came  swiftly  back  to  the 
outstretched  arms  of  the  exile. 

"A  very  brief  New  York  engagement,"  he  whis 
pered  in  her  ear,  he  knew  not  how  long  afterward. 
Her  head  was  pressed  against  his  shoulder,  her  eyes 
were  closed,  her  lips  parted  in  the  ecstasy  of  pas 
sion. 

"Yes,"   she  breathed,   so   faintly  that  he  barely 


352  GREEN  FANCY 

heard  the  strongest  word  ever  put  into  the  lan 
guage  of  man. 

Half-an-hour  later  he  was  speeding  down  the  ave 
nue  in  a  taxi.  His  blood  was  singing,  his  heart  was 
bursting  with  joy, — his  head  was  light,  for  the  feel 
of  her  was  still  in  his  arms,  the  voice  of  her  in  his 
enraptured  ears. 

He  was  hurrying  homeward  to  the  "diggings"  he 
was  soon  to  desert  forever.  Poor,  wretched,  little 
old  "diggings"!  As  he  passed  the  Plaza,  the  St. 
Regis  and  the  Gotham,  he  favoured  the  great  hos- 
telries  with  contemplative,  calculating  eyes ;  he  even 
looked  with  speculative  envy  upon  the  mansions  of 
the  Astors,  the  Vanderbilts  and  the  Huntingtons. 
She  was  born  and  reared  in  a  house  of  vast  dimen 
sions.  Even  the  Vanderbilt  places  were  puny  in 
comparison.  His  reflections  carried  him  back  to 
the  Plaza.  There,  at  least,  was  something  compar 
able  in  size.  At  any  rate,  it  would  do  until  he  could 
look  around  for  something  larger!  He  laughed  at 
his  conceit, — and  pinched  himself  again. 

He  was  to  spend  the  night  at  his  sister's  apart 
ment.  When  he  issued  forth  from  his  "diggings"  at 
half-past  seven,  he  was  attired  in  evening  clothes, 
and  there  was  not  a  woman  in  all  New  York,  young 
or  old,  who  would  have  denied  him  a  second  glance. 

Later  on  in  the  evening  three  of  the  Countess's 
friends  arrived  at  the  Courtney  home  to  pay  their 
respects  to  their  fair  compatriot,  and  to  discuss  the 
crown  jewels.  They  came  and  brought  with  them 
the  consoling  information  that  arrangements  were 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT 

practically  completed  for  the  delivery  of  the  jewels 
into  the  custody  of  the  French  Embassy  at  Wash 
ington,  through  whose  intervention  they  were  to  be 
allowed  to  leave  the  United  States  without  the  for 
malities  usually  observed  in  cases  of  suspected  smug 
gling.  Upon  the  arrival  in  America  of  trusted  mes 
sengers  from  Paris,  headed  by  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  ambassador  himself,  the  imperial  treasure 
was  to  pass  into  hands  that  would  carry  it  safely 
to  France.  Prince  Sebastian,  still  in  Halifax,  had 
been  apprised  by  telegraph  of  the  recovery  of  the 
jewels,  and  was  expected  to  sail  for  England  by  the 
earliest  steamer. 

And  while  the  visitors  at  the  Courtney  house  were 
lifting  their  glasses  to  toast  the  prince  they  loved, 
and,  in  turn,  the  beautiful  cousin  who  had  braved 
so  much  and  fared  so  luckily,  and  the  tall  wayfarer 
who  had  come  into  her  life,  a  small  man  was  stoop 
ing  over  a  rifled  knapsack  in  a  room  far  down-town, 
glumly  regarding  the  result  of  an  unusually  hazard 
ous  undertaking,  even  for  one  who  could  perform 
such  miracles  as  he.  Scratching  his  chin,  he  grinned, 
— for  he  was  the  kind  who  bears  disappointment 
with  a  grin, — and  sat  himself  down  at  the  big  library 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Carefully  selecting 
a  pen-point,  he  wrote: 

"It  will  be  quite  obvious  to  you  that  I  called 
unexpectedly  to-night.  The  week  was  up,  you 
see.  I  take  the  liberty  of  leaving  under  the  pa 
perweight  at  my  elbow  a  two  dollar  bill.  It  ought 


354  GREEN  FANCY 

to  be  ample  payment  for  the  damage  done  to  your 
faithful  traveling  companion.  Have  the  neces 
sary  stitches  taken  in  the  gash,  and  you  will  find 
the  kit  as  good  as  new.  I  was  more  or  less  cer 
tain  not  to  find  what  I  was  after,  but  as  I  have 
done  no  irreparable  injury,  I  am  sure  you  will 
forgive  my  love  of  adventure  and  excitement.  It 
was  really  quite  difficult  to  get  from  the  fire  escape 
to  your  window,  but  it  was  a  delightful  experience. 
Try  crawling  along  that  ten  inch  ledge  yourself 
some  day,  and  see  if  it  isn't  productive  of  a  pleas 
ant  thrill.  I  shall  not  forget  your  promise  to  re 
turn  good  for  evil  some  day.  God  knows  I  hope 
I  may  never  be  in  a  position  to  test  your  sin 
cerity.  We  may  meet  again,  and  I  hope  under 
agreeable  circumstances.  Kindly  pay  my  deepest 
respects  to  the  Countess  Ted,  and  believe  me  to  be, 
"Yours  very  respectfully, 

"SPROUSE. 

"P.  S.— I  saw  O'Dowd  to-day.  He  left  a  mes 
sage  for  you  and  the  Countess.  Tell  them,  said 
he,  that  I  ask  God's  blessing  for  them  forever. 
He  is  off  to-morrow  for  Brazil.  He  was  very 
much  relieved  when  he  heard  that  I  did  not  get  the 
jewels  the  first  time  I  went  after  them,  and  im 
mensely  entertained  by  my  jolly  description  of 
how  I  went  after  them  the  second.  By  the  way, 
you  will  be  interested  to  learn  that  he  has  cut 
loose  from  the  crowd  he  was  trailing  with. 
Mostly  nuts,  he  says.  Dynamiting  munition 
plants  in  Canada  was  a  grand  project,  says  he, 


THE  END  IN  SIGHT  355 

and  it  would  have  come  to  something  if  the  damned 
women  had  only  left  the  damned  men  alone.  The 
expletives  are  O'Dowd's." 

Ten  hours  before  Barnes  found  this  illuminating 
message  on  his  library  table,  he  stood  at  the  window 
of  a  lofty  Park  Avenue  apartment  building,  his  arm 
about  the  slender,  yielding  figure  of  the  only  other 
occupant  of  the  room.  Pointing  out  over  the  black 
house-tops,  he  directed  her  attention  to  the  myriad 
lights  in  the  upper  floors  of  a  great  hostelry  to  the 
south  and  west,  and  said, 

"That  is  where  you  are  going  to  live,  darling." 


THE    END 


PS 

3525 

M1395gr 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  927  679     1 


